The Week from Hell
by lunarcaterpillar
Summary: Resubmission of an old story that got deleted from my account; Tony and Ziva are finally going to tie the knot...if they can survive the week before the wedding.  Tiva


Title: The Week from Hell

Author: lunarcaterpillar

Pairing: Tiva

Rating: T

Spoilers: None

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me; no copyright infringement intended

Outside the rain was coming down so hard that it obscured the light from the streetlight outside, shining into Ziva's eyes through the curtainless, blindless window. Of course the electricity wasn't working, so the naked window was really a good thing—during the daytime. Still, she was trying to be optimistic. Beside her, Tony stirred, then sat up and kissed her cheek and twirled a lock of her hair around his finger.

"Could be worse, right?" he asked her, looking out the window. Ziva didn't answer. "Yeah, you're right. How could it possibly get any worse than this?"

"Tony…" she said, then rolled over and touched his face. "Don't say that. I'm happy just to be with you."

"Sure. You're thrilled to be spending what was supposed to be your honeymoon in a leaky apartment on a couch-bed that is, in fact the only piece of furniture here. I let you down. We should be somewhere warm and sunny right now."

"Even tropical islands get dark sometimes. And if you want to be warmer…" She moved closer and put her arms around him, with a seductive smile. He smiled half-heartedly back, but pulled away when she tried to kiss him. "Tony, don't be like that," Ziva said. "I know it wasn't your fault." Tony sighed.

"You deserve better," he said.

"I couldn't ask for better than being with you. I don't care where we are. Now stop pouting." She kissed him again and this time he let her. "The week from hell is over."

_Seven days previous_

"Ok, that the last of them," Ziva said, coming back into their apartment, looking anxious. Tony was flipping the channels before they both had to go to work. Outside he heard the garbage truck drive away.

"You waited to take them out with the garbage?" he said.

"I did not want to tempt myself," Ziva said, now pacing the floor with her arms crossed. "You're sure about this, Tony?"

"Calm down, Ziva. Just take a deep breath and say to yourself, 'I'm ok; life is good and I'm going to relax and enjoy having contraceptive-free sex with my boyfriend.'" Ziva gave him a look.

"I know you do not mean right now," she said to him.

"Well, I'm available of course if you're at all thinking along those lines—or we could just wait till tonight," he said, when the look got darker. "Besides, what are you worried about? Not that I mean to keep track of these things, but I happen to know that it'll be at least another few weeks before you even _can_ get pregnant."

"I'm aware of that; I did it on purpose," Ziva said. "I know, I'm being ridiculous and this is all very backwards; _you're_ supposed to be the one who is terrified. But—"

"I know, sweetie," Tony said, rising from the couch and going to her. He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her forehead. "And maybe it will comfort you to know that, while I haven't yet hit the Alert Level Red that you have, I'm hovering around an Orange myself."

"How can you be so calm?" She pulled out of his arms and went into the bathroom to finish putting her makeup on.

"I would love to say it's my training in law enforcement, but I've been slapped by enough women, including you, to know that it's just my own personal tendency to not really think about the consequences of what I do," he said.

"You'd better be thinking about these consequences, considering that they involve an entire human being," Ziva said, putting on mascara with a shaky hand and then cursing in Hebrew when it got in her eye.

"I don't mean totally disregarding them. I just mean focusing on what's in front of you right now and realizing that everything else will come together if you give it time." Tony took a moment to focus on what was right in front of him at that moment, which happened to be Ziva's lower body in pants than were tighter than she normally wore.

"Stop staring at my ass, Tony," Ziva said, working on the other eye now.

"We've been together for over a year; I think I've earned ass-staring privileges."

"Not while I'm in here. Go watch TV or something; I'll be out in a minute."

True to his own philosophy, Tony sat down and soon became absorbed in the sportscaster's account of the basketball game that his team had won the previous evening. He had watched it, but it was nice to be reassured that all was still right with the world. A minute alone with her thoughts seemed to be what Ziva needed; when she came out, she was smiling, or at least trying to.

"Don't even think about getting pregnant right now," Tony advised, walking with her out to the car. "Maybe for now, just try to get used to the fact that we won't be using protection anymore."

"I'll try," Ziva said. "Should I tell Gibbs?"

"I can hear that conversation now; 'Good morning, Gibbs, how are you? By the way, in case you were wondering about the most intimate details of mine and Tony's personal life, we stopped using all our forms of birth control today, so sometime in the next couple of years, you can expect a tiny copy of me or Tony to emerge from my uterus.' Not sure how well he would take that."

"I see your point. I will wait until I actually do get pregnant." She sighed. "And, Tony—when it happens, I will tell the doctor and obviously you already know, but to everyone else, this is the first time I have been pregnant, ever."

"I wasn't going to say anything about it." The rest of the drive passed in silence; both felt the weight of that subject. Tony had spent the past few months trying to avoid talking about the brief pregnancy she had had while still in Mossad. He knew that the idea of having a baby with him was bringing up uncomfortable issues. But the way Ziva dealt with things was generally just not to think about them and trying to discuss it wouldn't help much with that, so Tony had kept his mouth shut.

They arrived at NCIS headquarters and took the elevator up to the floor. While they were riding up, Ziva said, as if they had been talking about it for months, "When did you want to get married? We should do it pretty soon; I'd rather it happen before the baby is conceived." Tony hit the hold button.

"What?" he said. "Married? Us?"

"Yes," Ziva said, as if this was perfectly obvious. "Since we're going to have a child, I assume there is a certain level of commitment that we have to each other. I just thought we should make it official. And my father would definitely want it that way."

Tony didn't care what Ziva's father wanted. He usually tried to forget that he existed. He had never met the man, but he could guess that he wouldn't have been the first choice for Ziva's husband. He didn't take it personally. He would never have said it to Ziva, but Eli David wouldn't have been his first choice for Ziva's father.

"I don't mean anything big," Ziva added. "We could just be married by the Justice of the Peace, with a few of our friends there; Gibbs, Abby, McGee. A wedding is not that big of a deal.

"Not a big deal?" Tony stared at her. "Ziva, are you absolutely sure you're a woman?"

"Do I seem like the type to have a big wedding?"

"No, of course not. But why do you want to get married at all, if it doesn't mean that much to you?"

"I didn't say _marriage _didn't mean anything to me," Ziva said. "Just the wedding. If you're going to spend the rest of your life with someone, one single day is insignificant in comparison. And I guess I have a hint of traditionalism in me, but I would really like to be married when we have a child."

"Why didn't you say anything before?"

"I guess I was distracted and forgot. In Israel, we wouldn't even have talked about it; it just would have been what happened." She looked at him questioningly. "Do you not want to get married?"

"It's not that, it's just—this is kind of sudden." Tony had been thinking about marrying Ziva for awhile. But it had gotten put on hold when they decided to have kids and, since she had not brought it up in the discussion of children, he had assumed that children were enough of a commitment to her to make marriage unnecessary. And this was not how he had expected any discussion of the subject to go. "I guess you could say it just makes me nervous. Even more so than having a kid."

Ziva shrugged. "If you don't want to, it's not that important," she said. "I know you love me. I don't need you to marry me." She reached for the hold button. In a split-second, Tony thought, made a decision and grabbed her hand.

"Hold on," he said. "Let me say one thing."

"And that is?" Still holding her hand, he knelt. Her mouth fell open in surprise, then she smiled. "How romantic," she said. "You've been thinking about this for awhile?"

"Yeah. Now shut up and let me ask you to marry me." Ziva giggled, but stayed quiet. "Ziva David, love of my life, future mother of my children, will you marry me?" Still giggling a little, Ziva pretended to be considering her answer.

"Yes, Tony, my soulmate and the man who will be putting up with my morning sickness and hormonal mood swings; I will marry you." Tony stood up with a grin.

"Now you have to kiss me," he said.

"Before I do, just out of curiosity, which movie were we doing a scene from?" Ziva asked.

"The list is pretty long." Tony put his arms around her and she kissed him. "This we are telling Gibbs about."

Title: The Week from Hell

Author: lunarcaterpillar

Rating: T

Spoilers: none

Pairings: Tiva, hints of Gabby

Disclaimer: NCIS belongs to CBS and DPB; no copyright infringement is intended

A/N: In this AU, Abby and Gibbs got married last year. I'll leave it to lunarmoth131 to give you the details on that.

Chapter Two

"He's late again," Agent Sara Simmons said, glancing at the clock. "How does he expect us to respect him if he's never on time for anything?"

"Chill, Sara," Agent Lester Kyle said, from the desk beside her. "Probably got caught in traffic or something. And Harry's late all the time and you don't gripe about him."

"It's Agent Simmons," Simmons retorted. "And Agent Ball is not in charge here. I happen to think that leadership consists of more than threatening to batter someone when they make fun of your name."

"Which is why Harry's never going to be Senior Field Agent." Kyle had not seen the extraordinarily large man coming around the corner. He stood right in front of Kyle's desk.

"Say it again," Agent Harold Ball growled. "Still think my name's funny?" Agent Kyle had only been there a few weeks and so had not suffered the consequences for making fun of Ball's name; however, the angry stare on the larger man's face said that Kyle's grace period was coming to an end.

"'Morning, Harold—Agent Ball," Kyle said to his keyboard. Kyle was the little guy with the big mouth. Having grown up in Colorado, he was used to a slower, more peaceful way of doing things. He had joined the Navy at twenty-one, for lack of anything better to do with his life. He had decided to come to NCIS because he was a closet crime drama junkie. He added a more tolerant side to the team, mostly as a foil to Simmons' inflexibility. She was a Navy Reservist with a degree in computer science from the University of Texas who tended toward the philosophy of 'guilty until proven innocent' and was always trying to figure out and correct what everyone else was doing wrong.

"Did you see Agent DiNozzo on your way in?" Simmons asked. Ball took a minute to get his things organized at his desk.

"Saw him over with Agent Gibbs' people," he said in a deep, gruff voice. "'Parrently he asked his girlfriend—that Israeli woman—to marry him in the elevator this morning. They looked happy; guess she said 'yes'." Ball had a six-year background in police work and forensics. His size worked for him mainly in the field of intimidation; he had never demonstrated exceptional fighting skills or even aggression—except where it concerned his name. He was not aided by the fact that, in addition to looking like a pro wrestler, he was covered in coarse black hair.

"Nice," Kyle said. "Think we'll get an invite?"

"Not if you keep wasting time discussing my personal life when you should be working." Tony walked into the ring of desks, very similar to the bullpen, with a huge grin on his face.

"Congratulations," Simmons said dryly. "I just hope that, in all the frenzy to get the wedding planned, you won't forget to, you know, assign us cases?"

"Oh, I won't. Although, if you run out of things to do, I might let you help with the seating arrangements for the reception."

"Ah, spatial arrangements. Sara's department. And I'm sure she's got a diagram already drawn up for her own wedding, right, Sara?" Simmons smirked at him.

"Ever been to Thailand, Agent Kyle?" she said. "Even if you haven't, it wouldn't be hard for there to be a little slip of the mouse and suddenly they're extraditing you on drug trafficking charges."

"And you talk about Ball doing the assault and battery. Not that I don't believe you or anything, Harold. I keep telling you, man; you should talk to the WWF. They could use your talent."

Tony whistled. All three looked up.

"We've got a Marine accused of rape and murder," he said. "He's being held by local law enforcement for the moment. Let's go see if we can get him out of there."

"Unless of course he did it," Simmons said.

"Well, yeah, there's that. But gold star on that optimism, Simmons," Kyle said.

"I'm being realistic," Simmons said. "And since I'm Senior Field Agent, you two get to follow me. Kyle, you've got evidence, Ball, photos." The three agents were getting ready to leave when Tony cleared his throat.

"Sorry," Simmons said, trying to go for humble. "Anything to add, sir?"

"Not really," Tony said. "I just like watching you guys think you're in trouble. Go ahead." He followed them, first stopping at the bullpen to run in and give his fiancé a kiss.

Ziva stared after him when he left. She couldn't stop smiling. Getting married was another thing that she had never thought she would actually do, unless her father picked someone out for her. Her father. He would want to know about this. He would also want her to be married like a Jew. Well, he wasn't here. And he wasn't her boss anymore. She would marry Tony in a simple American wedding and if he didn't like it…oh well; they lived on another continent.

The elevator dinged and immediately she heard a piercing squeal that was growing steadily louder. Then something black and white appeared and wrapped itself around her. The only reason she didn't fight back was that she now recognized the squealer/hugger.

"OHMIGOD!" Abby said, when she finally let go of her. "Oh my God! You're getting married! To Tony! I can't believe it! I didn't think you guys would ever get married! Not to each other, I mean. I mean separately. When I met Tony, I said to myself, 'That man is never getting married.' But you guys are so perfect for each other that I don't know why I ever doubted you. Do you have to get married by a rabbi or something? I've never been to a Jewish wedding. I do get to come, don't I? Please, Ziva, can I come?"

"Of course you are coming, Abby," Ziva said, when Abby stopped to breathe. "And, no, we won't be married by a rabbi. It'll be a small wedding, probably just the team, if you guys want to come."

"Whose team? Is Tony's team going?"

"Possibly; I have not asked him. We just decided this morning."

"Decided? You mean he didn't ask you?"

"He did; got down on one knee and everything. It was very romantic. Of course, Tony is so steeped in pop culture I do not know if he knew any other way to ask me to marry him. But we were talking about it before that happened." Abby squealed again.

"That's so awesome!" she said. "McGee! Isn't that awesome?"

"It's great," McGee said, looking a little annoyed to have been interrupted from his work. "Congratulations, again, Ziva."

"Let me see your ring," Abby said.

"I don't have one," Ziva said. "I told you; it was very sudden. I do not think Tony even knew that I wanted to get married before today."

"He'd better get you a ring," Abby said. "I'll have to slap him if he doesn't. So when is it going to be?"

"Soon," Ziva said. "This Saturday." Abby stared at her.

"You're only waiting a week?" she said in surprise.

"Yes. I don't want a big wedding and I wanted to get married soon because…um, well…Tony found a really good deal on airplane tickets to the Bahamas last week and we were going to go anyway so we thought we might as well make it our honeymoon." It was mostly true. They had been planning a vacation and since Tony had agreed to having their wedding that weekend, it only made sense. Of course Abby didn't need to know about their other plans; she would find out when it happened like everyone else.

"Nice. So Saturday; I'm free and I'll make sure Jethro is free."

"McGee?" Ziva said, glancing at him over her computer.

"Sure." He continued typing. Abby went over and slapped him.

"Your friends are getting married, Timothy," she said. "You could at least pretend to be a little excited."

"I am excited," McGee said, sounding more irritated. "But they're not getting married right this minute so right now I need to finish my work."

"He's just jealous. This is why you can't find a girlfriend, Tim," she said to him. "Ok. I need to get back to work too. Jethro's probably waiting for me with a CafPow! right now. But we have to go shopping for your dress. And we have to find you some flowers. What kind do you want? You know what, I still have some pictures that the flower guy gave me from our wedding; I'll go get them and you and me can go shopping later. Bye!" She hugged Ziva again with another squeal, then ran off toward the elevator.

The day flew by. By the end, even Sara had to grudgingly admit that the Marine didn't do it and was being framed by a jealous brother. Ziva spent the afternoon interrogating a suspect in a murder case, which was difficult because she was thinking about what kind of flowers she wanted at her wedding. Her wedding; the words kept dancing through her head and making her want to start smiling at the most inappropriate moments. Despite many protests and evidence to the contrary, Ziva was, deep down, a girl. Gibbs congratulated her when he heard the news and repeated Abby's offer of anything that could be useful relating to their own wedding a year before. Then, when no one else was looking, he wandered off by himself and had a good laugh at the thought of Tony getting married at all, and another at the thought of Ziva being Mrs. Anthony DiNozzo.

"By the way, I'm not changing my name," Ziva said, as they drove home that evening.

"Ok," Tony said. "That's fine. I didn't think you were the type to be Mrs. Anything and DiNozzo doesn't really fit you."

"Our children will have your name, of course."

"Or we could hyphenate."

"David-DiNozzo seems a little much, don't you think?" Ziva was suddenly nervous again. The excitement about the wedding had distracted her from what she had been anxious about that morning; the fact that there was now nothing preventing her from becoming pregnant. Ziva really did want children. It was carrying them that scared her; having to fight everything that had been drilled into her head that she wasn't alive to have children and a normal life. She was there as an agent, to do what they told her to do. Training had tried to kill pity, compassion, affection, all the maternal emotions. Being pregnant, carrying and then delivering the child meant that her world was turned upside; she was no longer Ziva the assassin. She didn't know what it meant to be Ziva the mother.

When they got home, Tony didn't say anything or make any moves. He knew better than that; trying to push her into something would only end with him sleeping alone. They talked casually about their days; Ziva mentioned that she and Abby would look for a dress for her the next evening.

"Have any ideas?" he asked her.

"I'll have to look," she said. "It might not even be white. There's no need for it to be white. Everyone knows we live together. So if I like white, I'll get one and if I like another color, I'll get that."

"I thought you were being all traditional," Tony said. "Do they wear white dresses in Israel?"

"Yes. But we are obviously not having a Jewish wedding; I will wear what I want."

"Do I get to see it, or are you going to make me wait a whole week?" Tony smiled playfully. Ziva decided to tease him.

"You know, speaking of traditional, there are some traditions that say that, to heighten the anticipation, the bride and groom should sever all contact from each other until the wedding. Maybe I should go stay at Abby and Gibbs' place until Saturday."

"That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

"Yes, that sounds like a good idea actually; I'll go pack some things." She stood up and walked toward their room.

"Oh, no you don't." He got up and reached out to grab her; she made a noise between a scream and a giggle and ran. He chased her into their bedroom and caught her; she pretended to try to get away from him. They were both laughing and she swatted weakly at him as he wrapped his arms around her, then suddenly they were on the bed, kissing passionately. Ziva had to make an effort to stay calm; her heart was racing from more than just excitement. Tony pulled away for a moment.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," he said.

"No," Ziva said. "I want this. We need to do this tonight; otherwise…"

"We might never do it," Tony finished.

"And," Ziva added, for her own reassurance. "It's not as if anything is going to happen _tonight_."

"Right." His lips touched her neck and his hands started to remove her shirt. She felt him touch her bare skin. Physically, she wanted him. It was her mind that was being rebellious, trying to make her see reason. Or what she used to think was reason. As their lips met again, Ziva closed her eyes and told her mind to shut up.

Title: The Week from Hell

Author: lunarcaterpillar

Rating: T

Spoilers: none

Pairings: Tiva, hints of Gabby

Disclaimer: NCIS belongs to CBS and DPB; no copyright infringement is intended

Chapter Three

Tuesday

On the way up to the floor the next day, Ziva considered how strange it was to have fond, romantic memories of a small metal box. Tony was holding her hand and they smiled at each other and remembered his spur-of-the-moment proposal. Tony was reminded that he needed to buy Ziva a ring. He was hoping to do it that day, after work. The problem was that he had no idea what she might like. It could be easily solved by just letting her pick something out, but he wanted for at least _something_ be a surprise. He decided that he would go see what he could find that afternoon without Ziva; she wasn't the flashy type and wasn't making a big deal out of the wedding so he hoped he would be able to find something that she would like.

As soon as they stepped out of the elevator, they heard the snickers. Everyone on the floor was staring at them.

"What's going on?"Ziva whispered to him.

"No idea," he said. He walked her over to the bullpen, where he was met by Gibbs, who looked at Tony with merriment in his eyes.

"You're looking well," he said. "Considering your condition." He nodded to McGee. McGee, with a grin on his face, turned on the screen behind Gibbs' desk. It looked like an excerpt from the newspaper; a tiny picture of Tony was in the middle. He and Ziva walked closer and read the print.

"We regret to announce that Anthony DiNozzo left this world at 7:45 AM on March 31st. He had been wavering on the edge for some time and yesterday, his new fiancé Ziva David took possession of his heart forever and he was unable to recover it, thus breaking those of all the beautiful young women that he could have been out flirting with. His friends, relatives, frat brothers and drinking buddies all lament his passing. There will be a ceremony on April 5 to commemorate this fine young man and to usher him into his new life of monogamy. Afterwards, those overwhelmed by grief will go to a bar." Tony stared in shock until he heard Ziva start to chuckle. "Were you in on this?"

"No," she said. "But it is very clever, yes?" She continued to laugh. Tony looked behind him.

"McGee?"

"Wasn't me." Tony looked over at his team and saw Kyle's strawberry blond head beside Ball's dark bearded one looking over the dividers, both grinning like mad scientists. Sara's blond head even appeared, though as soon as she saw that he was looking in their direction, she ducked down and ran over the bullpen.

"I had nothing to do with this, Agent DiNozzo."

"Don't be so modest, Sara. We never could have gotten this into the paper without your help," Kyle said.

"This was in the paper?" Tony said. The two men started to snicker. Ziva grabbed a copy off of Gibbs' desk and showed it to Tony.

"Here it is right here with the other obituaries," she said. Tony read it over again and finally started to laugh.

"Nice one, guys," he said. "For Simmons' sake I won't pretend to threaten to fire you."

"You know you love us," Kyle said from his desk. "And we thought it was a unique kind of marriage announcement."

"In the wrong section," Sara said. "No one's going to read it except doctors and old people. Which is the only reason why I went along with it, Agent DiNozzo; I didn't think it could do much damage."

"Calm down, Simmons; I'm not mad. It's April Fools anyway. And who ever heard of a marriage announcement causing anyone problems?"

"Guy in my hometown put out a wedding announcement once, but the guy who typed it up was a little deaf, so he heard the wrong girl's name. Suffice it to say he didn't have to worry about renting a tux," McGee said.

"That guy wouldn't have been you, would it, McGoo?" Tony asked.

"Nope. But she called me when they broke it off; I took her out and let her tell me all about it; we were dating the next week."

"Nice; Probie got rebound action," Tony said. "Sometimes I kind of miss the old days around here."

"You mean when back you guys actually got something done instead of spending the whole day yapping?" Gibbs said, having changed the screen from Tony's obituary to the profile of their next victim.

"I gotta go," Tony said. "Goodbye, my lovely fiancé," he said to Ziva, giving her a kiss, and he and Sara moved back over to their area.

McGee was deeply absorbed in trying to get the work records of one of their suspects when he could feel someone staring at him. He looked up and saw Tony leaning on the cubicle wall twirling a file in his hand absentmindedly.

"Whatcha doing, McGee?" he asked him.

"Trying to find a connection between our victim and a suspect," he said. "You guys running out of things to do? I could use some help. Remind Sara she owes me for helping her hack into that Lieutenant's bank records last week."

"No, I've got them busy finishing reports. I actually, uh, just wanted to ask you something."

"Yes, the rumor is true; I do know how to ballroom dance. You want me to teach you for the wedding?"

"It actually wasn't about that," Tony said, through a snicker. "But I'll keep that in mind. No, this is—ahem—a different matter. See, I've called just about every guy that I know, you know, the ones that I drink beer and watch basketball with—activities that wouldn't interest you—and they're all busy Saturday, so, as much as a contradiction in terms as this is, would you want to be my best man?" McGee stared in shock.

"Me?" he said. "Why didn't you ask Kyle or Ball? They're coming, aren't they?"

"Yeah, but I can't pick one of them or the other would accuse me of favoritism and then Sara would have a reason to write me up. At least Ball would. Kyle would probably just make an inappropriate joke about my best man being a guy named Harry Ball."

"I see your point."

"So, what do you say, McGeegle? You'll stand up with me on Saturday?"

"I—I guess, since I'll be there anyway. Anything in particular I need to do?"

"Just stand up there with us, I guess. We won't have any toasting or anything, so you're clear there. Thanks, McGee."

"No problem, Tony. And—I really am happy for you guys. Glad it worked out." Ziva walked back into the bullpen and seeing Tony, put her arms around him and rested her head on his chest.

"Did you miss me already, Tony?"she asked.

"Every minute." McGee turned back to his computer and didn't stare at them kissing. He _was_ happy for them—he just never honestly thought that Tony would get married before he did.

"McGee's going to be my best man on Saturday," Tony told her.

"Every other jock in the city has plans," McGee said. "Probably a game on. You guys have TIVO?"

"We do, but that's not important. I would miss any game to marry you," he said to Ziva. She smiled at him.

"I think I'll leave you two alone," McGee said, and got up and left the bullpen. Ziva then gave Tony a look.

"I don't remember you making any calls to your friends last night," she said. "How would you know that they can't come on Saturday?"

"I don't," Tony whispered. "But what would he think if he knew that he was my first choice for best man? It would destroy the dynamics of our entire relationship." Ziva just smiled at him again.

"I love you," she said.

"I know. But it's not your fault; you can't help it." She chuckled and moved to walk away. He reached out and grabbed her around her waist and pulled her back to him.

"Hey," he said. "I love you too." He kissed her cheek and then let her go with a light slap on the behind. Ziva sat back down, giving him a playful smile before she got back to work.

"By the way, I've got something to do tonight that I just remembered, but you and Abby are going dress-shopping, right, so you won't miss me at home?"

"That's right. And what would this urgent thing that just came up be? Helping wounded baby penguins, I'm guessing?"

"You caught me. I should be home by seven. Might even bring you a present."

"I don't think penguins are approved in our lease."

"Then I'll have to bring you something a little less noisy and maybe a little shinier. I'll see you later." He waved to her; she blew him a kiss.

Tony had never been ring shopping—no relationship had ever lasted that long—and so he was quickly overwhelmed by the different kinds of rings. He could look at two rings and never know the difference, but there was enough of one between the cut or the size or the band that the salesgirls could argue about which one he should choose. He was getting a massive headache and wondering if Ziva could deal with not having a ring for awhile when a male salesperson came on duty and came to help him. Tony almost cried with relief. The man asked a few questions about Ziva and what their wedding would be like and recommended a few choices that Tony could all tell the difference between. He ended up choosing a whitish colored metal band that had an ornate pattern twisting around small stones that made him think of Ziva. He decided to get their wedding rings at the same time. He had starting setting some money aside, intended for the child they were expecting to have, but since it would probably be some time before that happened, this seemed a better way to use it. When he had finally made his choice, he handed the man his credit card.

"Tony? Tony DiNozzo?" Tony turned around and saw an Italian-looking man who was considerably shorter than he was coming toward him with a smile on his face and his arms open. The man hugged him and Tony hugged back, racking his brain to remember where he knew this man from.

"You don't remember?" the man said, seeing Tony's blank face when he let go of him. "It's me, George Benelli. Baltimore, 2000? I was the rookie with you in Narcotics?"

"Oh, right." The kid who he had tormented mercilessly about his bad hair and lack of a girlfriend, before he had achieved the maturity that he showed at NCIS. "How are you, George?" The man stood back and showed him the uniform of a mall security officer.

"It's a good job," George said, while Tony tried to suppress a smile. "I get discounts on whatever I buy here and…" He leaned close to Tony. "One of the overhead security cameras gets a shot of one of the dressing rooms in Victoria's Secret," he said, with a conspiratorial wink. Tony had to admit that that was a nice perk.

"So what about you? I'm guessing you're here for a Mother's Day Present; there's no way you're buying the ring."

"Hell, yeah, I am." He showed him a picture of Ziva; George whistled and smiled appreciatively.

"Nice," he said. "I'm married myself. You remember Susan, that girl I was seeing when I finally got a position on Homicide?" Tony pretended to.

"So, if you were on Homicide when I left, how did you end up here as—" Tony just couldn't hold back the laughter. "A—mall cop?" he asked, and turned away, laughing. George looked annoyed.

"Hey, I do just as much law enforcement as you do with your fancy Navy job. I don't think you realize the lengths that teenage girls will go to to get the latest clothes they saw on TV. They try to get away with it; I'm there with my badge; 'Stop! Mall Security!'" Tony collapsed in another fit of laughter.

"Excuse me, sir." The salesman from the jewelry store tapped Tony on the shoulder and held up his credit card. "I'm sorry, sir; I was unable to use your card to pay for your purchases."

"What?" Tony grabbed for his card; the salesman held it out of reach.

"George," called another older man who looked like the manager, standing by the computer on the other side of the display case. "Can you come take a look at this?" George went to look at the computer. Tony glared at the salesman.

"No way has that card reached its limit," he said. "I've barely used it this year." The man shrugged with a blank look on his face.

After a minute, the manager and George walked back around and up to where Tony and the salesman were standing. George had a smug smile on his face.

"Sir, where did you get this card?" the manager asked.

"I stole it from the Easter Bunny over there while he was changing in to his suit," Tony said, getting more irritated by the minute. George looked at the manager.

"Sounds like a confession to me," he said.

"What?"

"This card has a security alert on its use. Should only be used by an Anthony DiNozzo."

"_I'm_ Anthony DiNozzo," Tony said. "I've got multiple IDs to prove it." He reached for his wallet. George reached out and grabbed his hand.

"I don't think so, buddy."

"George, it's my wallet; you really think I'm going to carry my Sig in a mall?" he asked.

"You know," George mused. "I happened to be glancing through the obituaries this morning and I noticed a familiar name. Apparently, Anthony DiNozzo died yesterday. Unfortunate for him, but you obviously thought you could take advantage of the situation. So what was it; you thought you could get a little extra cash because you looked like him? Do you know what the penalty is for impersonating a government officer?"

"George," Tony said, in a tone that was fairly polite and controlled under the circumstances, "if you don't cut the crap and give me back my card, I'm going to take your mall cop badge and stuff it down your throat."

"Did you hear that?" George said to the manager, who nodded. "He threatened me. This clearly calls for a show of force." Before Tony could think, George grabbed his hands and twisted them behind his back, then handcuffed him.

"This is for all those Atomic Wedgies, Tony," he whispered. "Ok, buddy, let's go."

Title: The Week from Hell

Author: lunarcaterpillar

Rating: T

Spoilers: none

Pairings: Tiva, hints of Gabby

Disclaimer: NCIS belongs to CBS and DPB; no copyright infringement is intended

Chapter Four

"You picked a good time to get married," Abby said. "All the stores have nice dresses for prom and all that stuff."

"I don't want anything fancy," Ziva said. "Just something nice enough for a wedding." She was actually leaning toward a white dress—traditionalism was stronger in her than she gave it credit for—but she didn't want to be the quintessential bride who demanded that her dress be white even though she hadn't been a virgin in—she took a minute to count. Good grief, had it really been that long? It was about time she got married, then. Abby was bemoaning the lack of black dresses.

"It's colorism," she said. "Don't they know that black is the ultimate basic? I mean, you don't mind if I wear black to your wedding, do you?"

"Of course not," Ziva said. "I wouldn't expect anything different." Abby grinned and hugged Ziva around the four dresses she was carrying.

"It is so good to have people who love you the way you are," she said. "Hey, do you want Jackson to be the ringbearer?"

"The what?"

"You know, the cute kid who carries a pillow with the rings on it? You are going to have rings, right?"

"Yes," Ziva said, with a smile. "Tony is buying them right now. I'm pretending not to know about it. What about this one?"

Between the two of them, they managed to pick out six candidates, which was shortened to three.

"I'm glad I don't have to be limited by tradition here," Ziva said, looking at herself in the mirror in a dark red dress that was on the short list.

"I think," Abby said, looking at the other two, which were white. "That someone doth protest too much." Ziva turned and gave her a sheepish smile. "If you like the white dress, buy the white dress, Ziva."

"I guess you're right." She picked up the dress that she really liked the best and held it up to her. "Do you think Tony will like it?"

"Ziva, you could quite literally be wearing nothing and Tony would like it. But, since we can't all get married like Betazoids, pick something you're going to like. Now, do you feel pretty in it?" Abby asked. Ziva nodded. "Do you feel like it's the happiest day of your life when you're wearing it?" Ziva thought for a minute.

"Yes," she replied almost guiltily.

"Well, then get the dress!" Abby said. "It doesn't matter if it's what anyone else would have chosen. If you'll remember, I shocked the hell out of everyone when I wore a white dress at my wedding, but I didn't wear it because I wanted to shock them; I wore it because I wanted to. It doesn't matter. This is your day. Wear what you want." Ziva smiled and ran her hand down the skirt of the dress; it was soft and beautiful.

"I'll get this one, then."

Just then, a man poked his head around the curtain that separated the front viewing area of the dressing rooms from the rest of the store.

"Excuse me," Abby said. "This is the _women's_ dressing room. Men's is on the other side."

"Ziva," the man said. Ziva saw the man's face in the mirror and groaned.

"Jarred, what are you doing here?" she asked. Jarred lived in the apartment complex that she had lived in before she moved in with Tony. Moving had been as much to get away from his inexorable advances as because of the maturing relationship.

"I just wanted to tell you how very, very sorry I am and tell you that I am available any time you need to talk."

"What are you talking about?"

"I saw your boyfriend's picture in the obituary section of the paper today. Ziva, I'm so sorry for your loss. You must be feeling very lonely and unhappy right now; why don't we go have a drink and you can tell me all about what happened." Abby was speechless for a few seconds, then burst out laughing. Ziva walked away from the mirror, grabbed Jarred (who smiled when she touched his arm) and dragged him out of the dressing room.

"Jarred," she said. "I believe that I was quite clear the last twenty-seven times you asked me out; I'm very happy with Tony."

"Oh, poor Tony," Jarred said. He still had the smile on his face. "I was so sad to hear that he had died. Of course I rushed to find you, knowing you must need comforting. It's ok." He put his hands on her shoulders. "I'm here for you." Ziva removed his hands and stepped back.

"Tony is not dead," she said. "That was just a joke that his friends put in the paper; we're getting married." Jarred gave her a pitying look.

"My poor dear Ziva," he said. "You've become delusional from grief. I think you need someone to help you get over Tony. Let me be that man, Ziva." He put an arm around her and moved to kiss her. Ziva kneed him in the crotch.

"Oh, dear Lord, the family jewels," he groaned, and dropped to his knees. Abby had come out to see what was going on.

"Now, while I have your full attention," Ziva said. "Let me repeat; Tony is not dead. It was a marriage announcement that was put in the obituary section as a joke."

"What kind of idiot would think that was true?" Abby asked. Jarred was chuckling as he got to his feet.

"Oh, I know you love to play hard to get, Ziva," he said. "That's what I love about you; you're feisty. Like a little terrier." He growled. Both women stared at him like he was crazy and started to move away from him. "Guess you learned that back in Israel. Come to think of it, Israel itself is like a little terrier too, don't you think." Ziva's fist clenched.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" she asked fiercely.

"Oh, you know. It's over there in its little corner, like it's growling and barking at the rest of the world, trying to be threatening, when everyone knows it's really too small to be any threat?" He chuckled like he expected Ziva and Abby to laugh with him.

"Ziva," Abby said, in the most calming voice she knew. "He's an idiot; he doesn't know what he's saying." Ziva looked at Abby and she knew that she was far beyond being placated with words. Then Ziva turned and looked at Jarred; her eyes narrowed.

Tony hadn't even known that the mall security had its own holding area. But there it was; a couple of benches in a room just off of the security office that smelled kind of funny because it was just down the hall from the public restrooms. There was a window with a dusty, scratched piece of plastic in the wall separating them from the desk where there was another mall cop filling out paperwork. He nodded to George when he brought Tony in.

"I'm going to enjoy this," George said, with a smile, then unlocked his handcuffs and pushed him into the holding room.

"Yeah, we'll see how much you enjoy it when they find out you've got the _real_ Anthony DiNozzo," Tony said to the door, rubbing his wrists. He walked over to the window. George waved to him. Tony gave him the finger. George laughed and directed the other guy to write that down. Then he looked around him. The only other occupant of the room was a woman in a red dress evidently getting frustrated that whoever she was calling wasn't picking up. She flipped her hair back and Tony stared in surprise.

"Ziva?" Ziva looked up at him, equally surprised.

"What are you doing here?" they both asked at the same time.

"Did you do anything with my credit card?" Tony demanded.

"No!" Ziva said. "I have my own; I don't touch your cards."

"Then explain to me why apparently my cards were cancelled and a security alert was put out on them?"

"I don't know," Ziva said. "Be quiet, I'm trying to reach Abby. Abby? Where are you?—Ok, calm down, I'm still in the mall—You are kidding. The EMTs? I didn't even touch the little bastard; he seemed to enjoy it too much when I tried."

"What little bastard?" Tony said, getting curious.

"Well, come get us out," Ziva continued. "No, Tony's here too—some kind of credit card problem—no, they haven't broken his fingers; this isn't a casino—just come to the administrative offices are—right by the bathroom—ok, I will see you in a minute."

"What happened?" Tony asked. "You get in a fight?"

"That little weasel could not have fought back even if he wanted to," Ziva said, crossing her arms and looking irritated. "And all I did was—scare him a little."

"Ziva, what you call 'scaring' is a felony in most states."

On the other side of the plastic, Abby arrived. She waved to them and made a motion like hugging an invisible person, directed at Tony. Then she turned around to talk to the mall cops.

"Hi. I'm Abby Sciuto. I need to get my friends out of jail."

"That would be Ziva David and a man calling himself Anthony DiNozzo?"

"Yeah. Usually he calls himself Tony, though. But that's his full name."

"Ma'am, that man is being held for impersonating a government official." Abby frowned.

"But that really is Tony," she said. "What makes you think it's not?"

"We have reason to believe that Anthony DiNozzo is dead," George said. Abby turned around and moved closer to the plastic. She squinted at Tony for a minute.

"No, that's Tony," she said. "And you can trust me; I've known him for years. I'd recognize him anywhere. And I could spot a fake Tony a mile away."

"Ma'am, we can't release him until we check on a death certificate." He sat down and propped his feet up on the desk. "And that might take several hours," he said.

"Ok," Abby said. "What about Ziva? Can I get her out?"

"We can't release her until we know if charges are going to be brought for the assault."

"She was provoked, the guy insulted her!" Abby said. "He compared her country to a very cute but militarily useless breed of dog. I mean, if someone said something like that about your country, wouldn't _you_ kick him in the balls, drag him into the cubicle of a women's dressing room and threaten to make him eat his own toes?"

"No," George said. "No, ma'am, I would not. And I can't do anything until my associate talks to the victim. Your friends can call you when they get out." Abby turned to the window, shrugged, then held up her phone and mouthed 'McGee.'

McGee had gone home to listen to jazz and freewrite. His new book was running low on romantic content and he thought that Tony and Ziva's wedding could be the inspiration he needed. He had barely gotten started when his phone rang; Abby.

"This is not a good time," he said, when he picked up the phone.

"Tony and Ziva are in mall jail and I need your help to get them out," Abby said. Of the many questions McGee had after this statement, only one seemed like something that could be answered without long explanation.

"What is mall jail?" he asked.

"They've got this little room at the mall that they're holding them in until they hear about the death certificate or if anyone is filing charges," Abby said. "Please, Tim; I really need your help." He could hear her smile. "You can use this in your book," she said, in a singsong voice, to tempt him. McGee sighed.

"What do you want me to do?"

Tony and Ziva had stopped looking up whenever the door to the office opened; even if it concerned them, it was unlikely to be good. Then the door opened to the holding room and a superior-looking man in an expensive jacket, a scarf and sunglasses came over and slapped Tony on the head.

"When I said 'research' I didn't mean get arrested, dumbass," he said to him.

"Excuse me," George's partner said, behind him. "Who are you? Get out of my holding room!"

McGee took off his sunglasses, rolled his eyes, looked bored, then yelled, "Abby!"

Abby came running in with a copy of his book open to his picture.

"He's Thom E. Gemcity, of course," Abby said. McGee put his sunglasses back on. The cop looked amazed.

"Oh, my God!" he said. "Mr. Gemcity, I—I love your book. It's amazing the way you seem to know so much about how the world of crimefighting really works—" McGee held up a disinterested hand.

"Please direct all gushing reviews to my assistant," he said. "I apologize for this little mixup. These two work for me; they've been doing research for my new book. Obviously, I rather overestimated their intelligence. You morons, I didn't mean for you to _actually_ be held in jail!"

"You seemed to think we could handle it on our own, _boss_," Tony said. McGee looked at him condescendingly over the top of his sunglasses.

"Less talking, more listening to the one person in the room who actually matters, ok?" He slapped Tony again; Tony mouthed 'you are dead'. McGee turned to the cop.

"Now, I know these two are complete idiots and I'll be firing them presently, but for now, I kind of need the research they've got in those very small brains there. So maybe you could let them go?" The cop was staring at him as if still in shock. Then he realized what was being said and went over to the desk to look at the papers.

"Oh, uh, sure, sure; we never found a death certificate on Tony DiNozzo. Benelli wanted to hold him for a few more hours; teach him a lesson…"

"Believe me, I'll take care of that," McGee said. "And the woman?"

"The man didn't file any charges," the cop said. "Just left his number 'in case she changes her mind', he said."

"So we can go, then?" McGee said, sounding bored again. "C'mon, c'mon; I've got deadlines here."

"S-sure, I guess so." McGee smiled and turned to go into the holding area. "Oh, uh, M-Mr. Gemcity, uh, can I have your autograph?" McGee sighed.

"Abby?" Abby handed the cop a signed picture. The cop looked overjoyed.

"T-thank you so much! Can't wait to read the new book!" Tony and Ziva followed McGee out of the office.

"Abby! The smell! I need essential oils!" Abby looked behind them; the cop had closed the door. She slapped McGee.

"That was overkill," she said.

"Thank you, McGee," Ziva said.

"Yeah, whatever," Tony said. "I won't be happy until I know what's going on with my cards. And I could have done without the headslaps," he added. McGee had his back to Tony, so he felt it was safe to smile with fond memories of the last few minutes.

"Relax, Tony, it's probably a mistake," Abby said. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."

They stopped at the dress store to take back the dress that Ziva was still wearing and get her clothes so that she didn't get arrested _again_ for shoplifting. Because Tony was there and because there were financial uncertainties, she decided to wait to buy the dress.

Tony was still very annoyed. He still didn't understand what was going on, or why his card was cancelled and he didn't like it at all. And he still didn't have a ring.

When they got to their apartment, Tony wanted to spend some time relaxing and vegging in front of the TV; he had been in mall jail for two and a half hours. He went inside and flipped the light switch; nothing happened. The lights were out.

"That's strange," Ziva said. She looked out into the breezeway at the other windows. "Everyone else's lights are on." Tony was staring at their living room. It was empty.

"Ziva…" he said. "Are you sure this is our apartment?"

"Oh, how smart of you to notice, Tony; I was wondering why I had to pick the lock. Yes, this is our apartment. Why—" She looked at their living room. "Our things!" she said. "Everything is gone." She went into the kitchen and opened cabinets; there was nothing there. She then moved back to their bedroom. Tony stood there still staring. This wasn't possible.

"Our bed is gone," Ziva was saying. "All the things in our bedroom and—" She screamed and he heard a clattering sound. Tony snapped out of it and started toward the bedroom.

"I'm ok," he heard Ziva yell. "I just wasn't expecting the drop."

"Drop?" Tony said. "What drop?"

"I think you should see this for yourself." Tony opened the bathroom door and saw Ziva scramble back onto what was left of the tile out of a shallow dirt pit. The wind blew through his hair and he could hear crickets. Ziva got up and stood beside him.

"Our entire bathroom seems to be missing."

Title: The Week from Hell

Author: lunarcaterpillar

Rating: T

Spoilers: none

Pairings: Tiva, hints of Gabby

Disclaimer: NCIS belongs to CBS and DPB; no copyright infringement is intended

Chapter Five

Tony and Ziva stood just inside the door of what used to be their bathroom, staring at the very large piece of construction—or in this case, destruction—equipment that apparently had just broken down the walls and dragged everything out. The tile ended a few feet away from the door where the entire room, foundation and all, had been ripped away.

"I guess we now know how the robbers got into our apartment," Ziva said, after getting off the phone with the police.

"And now the question is, what the hell happened to our bathroom?" Tony said.

"I thought that was obvious."

"Ok, _why_ the hell did this happen to our bathroom? Did we get any notices in the mail or anything?"

"Not that I can remember. I will go talk to the landlord, see if he knows anything." Tony was beginning to wonder if he had fallen asleep at his desk and he was just having a nightmare. Impoverishment of this magnitude only happened to people in movies, and it usually meant that someone powerful _really_ hated you. Had he made any mob bosses angry in the past few months? He didn't think so. But what would make _anyone_ want to destroy their bathroom?

The police arrived while Ziva was still gone. There wasn't much he could tell them. They looked around a little, looked for any sign of the criminals in the yard behind the hole in their apartment. They didn't find anything, as Tony could have guessed. A report was worked up to be filed and the policemen left with an apologetic shrug.

Tony was pacing the empty living room when the door opened. Ziva came in, holding the arm of an older woman who pulled away from her as soon as they were inside.

"Get your hands off of me, you foreign hussy!" Ziva gestured to Tony.

"Look," she said, sounding angry. "See? Still alive, safe and sound." The woman walked up to Tony and peered at him suspiciously.

"Hi, Mrs. Hansen," Tony said. She was the landlord's mother; Tony had helped her carry groceries to her apartment a few times. She always asked him in for some very good homemade sugar cookies. Since Ziva moved in, however, she had shunned him. She looked at him closely then looked back at Ziva indignantly.

"This isn't Tony!" she said. "He looks nothing like him!"

"What?" Tony said. "Mrs. Hansen, it's me. Remember, carried your groceries, brought back your dog, told you how delicious your cookies were?"

"Why you shameless huckster, trying to fool an old woman! This couldn't possibly be Tony! He was a good-hearted decent young man—until you showed up." She glared at Ziva. "This man looked like Logan from Dark Angel."

"Ziva, maybe you'd better let me handle this," Tony said. Mrs. Hansen might recognize him if Ziva wasn't there to distract her.

"No!" Ziva said. "I'm not leaving so she can abuse me behind my back with you! Tony, it was her that cancelled your credit cards!"

"That poor boy," Mrs. Hansen shook her head sadly. "If only he hadn't have gotten mixed up with this one. She drove him to his death, I'm sure."

"Death?" Tony said. "Oh, I get it, Mrs. Hansen. You saw the obit in the paper. You see, that wasn't a real obituary; I'm actually getting married. To Ziva; see, she's made an honest man out of me."

"You see, this is why I cancelled the cards and got all of Tony's things out of the apartment. She's been after all his money from the start. And now she's hired you to pretend to be Tony. Well, you might be able to fool everyone else, but you won't fool me." She turned back to Ziva. "Thought you might get away with it, didn't you? All you young floozies are the same. Trying to corrupt good, God-fearing men. You think I don't know what's been going on in here? Making all that noise late at night. People are trying to sleep, you know." Ziva (thankfully) didn't have time to reply; Mr. Hansen, the landlord, came in at that moment.

"There you are, Mother," he said. "I'm so sorry, Agent DiNozzo. I didn't know; I'd been planning on making some renovations to your place, so…"

"Where's our stuff?" Tony asked. "She said she got it out of our apartment."

"Why, Tony!" Mrs. Hansen, with a kindly smile, apparently having a sudden fit of recognition. "How nice to see you! After that little joke in the paper, I wondered if you were alright. Your things are in a storage compartment. Here's the key. I hope you're not angry." Tony didn't trust himself to answer that question. Mr. Hansen sighed.

"I had my son and his friends get all the stuff I thought you left behind. Mother, you told me that he was dead and that his girlfriend ran off to Virginia Beach with the pool boy!"

"All I told you was what I read in the paper," Mrs. Hansen said. "I figured out the rest from the way I've seen her undressing him with her eyes while he's trying to do his work."

"He works as a cook in a restaurant in town," Ziva said. "We were discussing _curry_."

"What do you want to bet that's her slang for cocaine," Mrs. Hansen whispered to her son. "Tony, maybe now after this, you can settle down with a nice, decent girl; Elizabeth in the next building is single and still a virgin; I never once saw her throwing away birth control devices in _broad daylight._"

"Agent DiNozzo, I'm really sorry," the landlord said. "But every apartment I've got is full, or I'd offer one to you. You can keep your stuff in our storage until you find a new one. Let me know if there's anything else I can do. C'mon, Mother." He led her out; she shook her finger at Ziva as they left. When the door closed, Ziva let out a huge sigh and opened her mouth to speak, but stopped. They were both silent for a moment.

"I guess I will call Abby and Gibbs," she finally said. "Obviously, we can't stay here tonight."

"That'll work," Tony said. He sat down on the carpet leaning against the wall. Ziva came and sat beside him. She picked up his arm and put it around her shoulders, then leaned close to him.

"They said we could come at any time," she said. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah," Tony said. "She's not really crazy, you know."

"Oh, I know. She just does not like me."

"I didn't think she'd go so far as to take our stuff, though."

"I guess we should go," Ziva said. "I don't know what to take; our toothbrushes are even gone."

"We can get more," Tony said. "As far as I know, she didn't clean out my checking account."

"Umm…"

"Oh, dear God, please, no."

"That too," Ziva said. "Used the payment information that the landlord had. Seemed to think that I was going to use it to buy a condo in Miami and shack up with a Cuban."

"She_ stole _my money too?"

"The landlord will put everything back and you can get a new credit card. It's not the end of the world. Nothing was actually stolen. By the way, what did she mean when she called me a 'floozy'? I assume it was nothing complimentary."

"It isn't, but just forget it." Tony sighed, wondering how much more of this he had to look forward to. "I guess let's go find some cheap toothbrushes."

Later that night, they were about to go to bed in Abby and Gibb's spare bedroom. They had bought new articles of dental hygiene and Ziva had borrowed a nightgown from Abby. Tony thought she looked cute in the big, white fluffy thing with its matching nightcap that Abby had made her wear. Then the phone rang. Ziva answered it, then looked surprised and immediately began talking in Hebrew. The conversation lasted only a few minutes, but Tony had time to put his clothes back on.

"That was my father's secretary," Ziva said, in a very controlled tone. "He found out about the wedding somehow. And…he is on his way here. Tonight."

"I figured," Tony said. Then he left the room and went to find something to beat the crap out of.

Title: The Week from Hell

Author: lunarcaterpillar

Rating: T

Spoilers: none

Pairings: Tiva, hints of Gabby

Disclaimer: NCIS belongs to CBS and DPB; no copyright infringement is intended

Chapter Six—Wednesday

A/N: I wanted to thank everyone for their lovely reviews; I'm glad you're enjoying it and I hope you continue to do so. I have never heard anyone say whether Tony is circumcised or not. For the purposes of this and other chapters, I'm going to assume that he isn't. If I am mistaken, then we're going to pretend. Also, I didn't come up with the guillotine idea on my own; I stole it from a British TV show called Coupling. Hope you enjoy!

The next day arrived way too fast for Tony. Nightmarish fantasies of his future in-laws had kept him up until 0330. Ziva slept soundly and woke up with the alarm; she nudged him awake when he slept through it.

"I'm really sorry, Tony," she said to him, bringing him a cup of coffee. "I do not know how he found out. And I do not know what he plans to do."

"Well, I can guess that marrying you is out of the question," Tony said, angrily. "Your dad is going to kill me for even trying."

"I will deal with my father," Ziva said. "And we will be married. I promise." She tried to smile encouragingly. "My family cannot tell me what to do when I am here," she said. "I love you and I'm going to marry you."

"But I'm not Jewish. I think they're going to have a problem with that."

"Try not to worry about it right now," Ziva said. "Let's just go to work and try to pretend it is a normal day."

"I'm supposed to pretend that I'm not homeless, penniless and creditless—not to mention that I'm about to have my head on the chopping block?"

"Only if you intend to convert," Ziva said with a smirk. Tony looked horrified and squirmed a little.

"Ziva, you can't say things like that to a man."

"It was just a joke, Tony. And Hansen is going to put the money back in your account."

"That doesn't change the fact that we are currently living in a guest bedroom. How is that going to look?"

"You told me, now I'm telling you," Ziva said. "Just think about what's in front of you. Come on, drink your coffee; we have to go to work."

When they got out of the elevator, Tony was shamelessly hiding behind Ziva, watching every corner.

"I know he's here," he said. "I can feel it. Like a sense of certain death." Ziva smacked him on the arm. They walked over to her desk and she was about to sit down when…

"Ziva! Daughter!" They both looked up. Deputy Director David was standing on the steps that led up to MTAC. Ziva looked at Tony; he was frozen in position staring at the stairs.

"Come on, Tony," she said, and grabbed his hand. They walked toward the steps.

"I'm going to die, aren't I?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Ziva said. "It's not like he brought a guillotine with him."

"Does he have one?"

"He used to joke that he did," Ziva said, as they went up the steps. "Not a big one, a miniature one, just the right size for—"

"Shalom, Ziva," David said, extending his arms. Ziva returned the greeting and hugged and kissed him. They talked a little in Hebrew; Tony was wondering if there was any chance he could escape back to his desk, when David looked at him.

"Father, this is my fiancé, Tony DiNozzo," Ziva said. David shook his hand.

"So," he said, much more gruffly. "Nice to meet the man that my daughter has been living dishonorably with for the past six months." Tony wondered if an earthquake destroying the building would be too much to hope for.

"I am not a blind fool, you know," David said to Ziva. "I know what it means when your address and phone number suddenly change and a man answers the phone. I just have to wonder why I was—left out of the loop, is that the saying?" Ziva looked a little embarrassed; Tony was starting to get even more nervous.

"You know, in the old days, for even thinking of such things, Ziva would be locked in her room until her wedding day and you—" His eyes reminded Tony of Freddy Krueger, "Would have your manhood removed with a dull eight-inch knife!"

"Father," Ziva said, with a nudge. "Stop."

"Don't give your father orders," David said. He looked kindly and jovial again. "If a man can't take a joke now and then, he shouldn't be joining this family. And I was only joking, Tony." He laughed and put his hand on his shoulder. Then suddenly Freddy Krueger was back. "The length would be closer to ten inches," he growled.

"Ziva!" A woman about Ziva's age appeared. Ziva's face lit up.

"Hasida!" she said. They embraced and kissed, as was Israeli custom. Tony wanted to watch, but didn't dare.

"When I heard that you were getting married, I just had to come," Hasida said to her. "So, who is it?"

Ziva gestured to Tony; the woman shook his hand.

"This is Hasida, an old friend of mine. We used to work together," Ziva said to Tony. "This is Tony, my fiancé."

"Yep. I'm the one that you can castrate—I mean, congratulate," Tony said. He felt his face turning red. Beside him, he heard David chuckle. Hasida looked him over critically and then smiled.

"You still have your eye, Ziva," she said. "He's adorable." Tony smiled nervously.

"I uh, I hate to break up this party," he said. "But I need to get to work."

"As do I," Ziva said.

"Of course," David said. "But you will join us for dinner later at the Embassy at seven thirty, won't you?"

"We will," Ziva said. "See you this evening, Father." She kissed him and waved to Hasida, then walked down the steps. Tony was a second away from being able to breathe again when David grabbed his wrist and held him back.

"I need to speak with you, Agent DiNozzo," he said. "It has come to my attention that you and my daughter no longer have a place to live."

"That's not my fault," Tony said quickly. "I mean," he added, when David gave him a look. "Um, I haven't been able to do anything about it yet. I'm going to be making calls about finding another apartment later."

"Good, good," David said. "But it makes me wonder, Tony, _if_ you marry my daughter, will you be able to maintain a home for her and my grandchildren?"

"I—I will, sir," Tony said. "It was—it was just a misunderstanding, you see. I'm not in the habit of losing apartments; we—I, I mean—or, I've been in the same one for years, and then Ziva—anyway; I'll—I'll get another one."

"Yes, _you_ will get another one," David said. "In the meantime, Ziva will stay with us at the Embassy." Tony opened his mouth to protest, but David gave him another warning look and he only smiled.

"Yes, sir; I will have a new one by the end of the day."

"This is what I like to hear," David said. He moved to pat Tony on the shoulder again and Tony flinched. David laughed. "I look forward to seeing you tonight, Tony," he said. Tony's smile was frozen and he didn't move. "You must go to work now," David said. "And make money for your new apartment."

"Right. I will go do that." Not knowing what the proper procedure was for being dismissed in Israel, he kind of bowed, then left.

"You're not really going to let her marry him," Hasida asked in Hebrew when Tony was gone.

"We will see," David replied, and they walked away.

When work was over, Tony and Ziva drove over to the storage place to find some clothes suitable for the evening. Tony had spend the day in fear and misery, and every few minutes a memory of the morning's horrible events flashed through his brain and by reflex his hands moved to protect certain areas. He let Ziva drive; he didn't have the mental capacity to be afraid of what was about to happen and watch the road at the same time.

Ziva was trying to convince herself that her father wasn't here to break them up. _Surely he knows that I am an adult and I can make my own choices_, she thought as they drove. Tony was a wonderful man. She loved him more than she had ever loved anyone. Her father would understand that; beneath it all, he truly wanted what was best for her. And she wanted more than anything to marry Tony. She just hoped that that was enough for her father.

There was a small room at the Embassy set aside for them. Tony had to admit that the place was very nice. Ziva hugged and kissed everyone again; besides David, Hasida was there and another old friend of Ziva's, a man named Yitzhak.

"How nice to see you again, Ziva," he said, obviously trying to be charming. Tony was sitting beside him and maneuvered the chair onto his toe while he was sitting down.

"Oh, man, I'm sorry; I didn't mean to do that."

"I would guess that you are not a man who is used to dining in this way," Yitzhak said. "You look like the sort who eats microwave pizza in front of the TV every night."

"Only when my old college team is playing," Tony returned. "Yeah, I played basketball in college. You probably wouldn't know; you don't really look like the sporty type."

"I play halfback in football," he said. "The real football, of course. You Americans are so stubborn; you still use your own measurements, you still cling to your own kind of football, honestly, you don't seem to realize how outnumbered you really are." He glared at Tony.

"We just have an independent spirit."

"You are adolescents trying to tell the world that you need nothing and no one. You will soon find out that you are wrong." The irritation that Tony had been feeling all day boiled over.

"Yeah, well, personally, I'd rather be John Wayne than the chick tied to the railroad tracks." Yitzhak laughed, while his eyes still glowered.

"Do you hear this, Ziva," he said. "I believe your fiancé just insinuated that Israel is a woman being held captive and America is the one saving her. What do you think, Deputy Director? Do you agree?"

The Deputy Director looked up from the salad that he was eating and looked at Tony. Tony was trying to decide whether he wanted to be cremated or buried in the ground when Hasida spoke up.

"I think what Tony is trying to say with his comparison is, if we remember, Israel was created so we would have a place to live in peace. It is part of our essence. That we are always at war is not necessarily our fault, but that of those who would take advantage of this. In this analogy, we are the woman; this isn't a bad thing. God Himself at times is compared to a woman. If we need the help of others, it is not because of our weakness, but of our unwillingness to sacrifice _everything_ for war. Isn't that what you were saying, Tony?"

Tony nodded weakly, though he hadn't understood a word. David nodded appreciatively. Tony heard Ziva sigh softly with relief.

"If you ever say anything like that again, I will string you up by your ankles, torture you with a clothespin and play _The Sound of Music_ soundtrack for three days straight," she whispered.

"Don't worry," Tony whispered back. "I'm keeping my mouth shut for the rest of dinner."

"That might be best." Tony mouthed 'thank you' to Hasida. She smiled and winked at him. He smiled back. She was quite attractive, with hair that was even longer and darker that Ziva's and eyes that ended in an Oriental point. Also her breasts were bigger. These thoughts went through his head too fast for him to stop; once he realized what he was thinking, he stared down at his plate. He was getting married to Ziva; he loved Ziva. Still, it had taken some time to kill the automatic flirting impulse and also the corollary giving-his-phone-number impulse. Anyone can imagine the problems that arose from this and what Ziva threatened to do if he didn't stop. Now he was working on keeping to the 'look-but-don't-touch-or-flirt' rule.

But as dinner wore on, there could be no doubt about it; Hasida was flirting with _him_. She flipped her hair every time she looked at him and when she talked to him, she giggled shyly at the end of every sentence. At the same time, her left hand, resting on her chest, slid lower and lower until it was right over the (very low) point of her neckline. She let her fingers graze the skin every time she inhaled. Tony was having trouble swallowing. Surely Ziva was seeing this and mentally sorting through her torture repertoire for the next time they were alone. He didn't think it would help his case that he wasn't responding—well, he didn't mean to, anyway. His flirt smile just came out of its own volition, like it was tired from disuse and wanted some exercise. Then he saw David giving him a look and excused himself to try to regain control.

Hasida followed him, of course. Tony was in the private bathroom, trying to think about things that had nothing to do with sex when she walked in and closed the door behind her.

"Hi, Tony," she said. "Feeling alright?"

"Do you want to get me killed?" he asked. "I'm likely to barely survive this visit anyway; you're not helping with your—breast…thing. And, I figured that it was kind of a universal rule that you don't try to flirt with your friend's fiancé!"

"Oh, don't worry about Ziva," Hasida said. "She won't care; she'll have the rest of her life to own you so one last little fling won't matter."

"I'm sorry, are we talking about the same Ziva? The woman who has, on occasion, been jealous of fruit?" Grocery store, attractive, braless woman in a low-cut shirt. Without realizing it, Tony had started fondling grapefruits after she walked by. He had spent that night on the couch.

"It's ok, Tony," she said. One of the straps of her dress fell. "I won't tell anyone." She moved closer with a sensuous expression. "I want to know if the Americans kiss as well as everyone always says they do." Tony wanted to. He _desperately_ wanted to. She was gorgeous and he hadn't been with another woman since he had started dating Ziva; he suspected that women were too afraid of her to make a move on him. Yet here was a friend of hers, doing just that, with Ziva in the next room. Any other week of his life, he would have done it. But this time, he just couldn't.

"Hasida," he said, turning away, closing his eyes and picturing baseball players spitting tobacco and scratching themselves. "You are a beautiful woman and I would love to demonstrate the amazing American kissing skills, but…my fiancé is in the next room. This can't possibly end well. So, thanks, but no thanks." Hasida gave him a look of disappointed surprise. Then Ziva opened the door.

"Tony," she said. She looked suspiciously from one to the other. "You wanted to talk to me, Hasida?"

"Oh, I didn't know Tony was in here," Hasida said quickly. "We were just chatting." Ziva still looked a little doubtful.

"Ok," she said. "If you two wouldn't mind finishing your conversation outside, I'd like to use the facilities."

"Oh, sure." Hasida and Tony left.

"You set me up!" Tony hissed as soon as the door was closed. "If I had gone for it, she would have walked in on us making out and then I would have lost my girlfriend along with everything else this week! Why, why would you do that?" Hasida was now giving him a look of pitying disgust.

"Please believe me when I say that it's not because I find you attractive," she said, in a scoffing tone. "Damn; I was sure you were the type who would take that kind of bait."

"Are you _all_ out to get me? Yitzhak keeps trying to get me to admit that I hate your country; my future father-in-law has been twirling his steak knife and staring at me all night long and my green beans tasted like grape bubble gum because I strongly suspect that the waiter spat in them. Is there not a single Israeli here who is ok with me marrying Ziva?"

"I doubt it," Hasida said, still looking condescending. "Ziva deserves _sooo_ much better."

"Like that guy Yitzhak?"

"Oh, no; not Yitzhak. Someone like Ziva needs someone kind and understanding, more like a good friend, really." Hasida smiled and twirled a lock of hair. Tony wasn't sure whether to be angry or incredibly turned on.

"Oh, my God," he said. "_You_ are trying to steal my fiancé from me?"

Hasida stopped smiling and gave him a fierce look.

"Listen," she said. "I have known Ziva for a lot longer than you have; I could make her much happier."

"Doesn't matter; Ziva doesn't—wait, have you two ever—" Hasida smirked at him.

"That's for me to know," she said. "Suffice it to say that she just needs a little more persuading."

"Yeah, well, if my relationship with her means anything, she needs a little more incentive to, uh, keep playing for your team, so to speak."

"Well, after I heard about it, I came here to seduce you, remind her that men are useless bastards and bring her back to Israel. And you don't deserve her; I saw the way you were looking at me tonight. I would never do something like that.

"So, trying to seduce her boyfriend for her own good doesn't count."

"You see, women actually believe in this thing called commitment. I'm much better at that than you; I've been waiting for four years for her to come back." She looked at Tony again. "And I'm a better dresser," she said.

"Ziva and I have been together for a year and a half; we love each other and it's going to take more than a few hugs and kisses from an old friend to destroy that. If you insist on fighting over her, just know this; you—" He poked her in the shoulder. "Are going down."

"Sure," Hasida said with another smirk. "I'm better at that, too."

"And what are you two talking about?" Ziva asked, coming out of the bathroom. She walked over and put an arm around Tony. "Something wrong?" she asked, when she saw his stunned face. Tony didn't reply; he was trapped in his own head by mental pictures that he had been unable to stop.

"My fault," Hasida said. "I was telling him about the time I was undercover, so to speak, on that nude beach in Greece. He asked me what I did with my weapons."

"Good to see you're making new friends, Tony. It shows growth." Tony startled out of his trance and put his arm around Ziva with a smile.

"Anything for you, sweetie," he said, and kissed her cheek and then her neck. Ziva giggled; Hasida glowered.

"Do you think there's any way you can get out of staying here tonight?" Tony whispered in her ear. "I don't want to leave you here."

"It is only a couple of nights until the wedding. If it keeps my father happy, it is the least we can do."

"And," Hasida said, putting her hand on Ziva's free shoulder. "We'll be here to take care of her, Tony. You don't have to worry. We have very good security here. She, uh, won't even be sleeping alone." She returned the cocky grin.

"She's right," Ziva said. "And why are you suddenly so worried about security? I would think you should know by now that I can take care of myself." She kissed his cheek.

"It's not security I'm worried about," Tony said, through clenched teeth.

"Ziva!" David yelled, from the dining room. "Do not be rude; come back in! You and your friends must talk in here, instead of hiding back there and having secret conversations. Come!" Tony walked Ziva in and pushed her chair up for her when she sat down. Hasida quickly engaged her in a conversation in Hebrew and he found himself at the mercy of David and Itzak. He smiled and prayed for Saturday to come fast.

Chapter Seven

At last, dinner was over and the plates were being cleared away. Tony still wanted to kill something. David had been grilling him about his background and Tony had been forced to admit some stupid things that he had done under the influence in college, such as the time they had decided to build a catapult and use it to invade the sorority next door; everything he said was followed by a headshake and the words, "Israeli men…" _Israeli men apparently have no fun_, Tony thought, but continued to smile politely. Yitzhak was still talking about Israel's military abilities and asking Tony if the US had something similar. In many instances it had been the US who gave it to Israel, but Tony stayed away from that subject. He was able to save face by pointing out Israeli dedication to the protection of their country far exceeded the US, since most young people spent time in the Israeli army and the numbers were dropping in America. David and Yitzhak seemed satisfied that they had found something to hold over his head and moved on to asking him what kind of gun he carried.

Of course he was having trouble concentrating given what was going on with Ziva and Hasida on his other side. Hasida took every opportunity (particularly when Tony was watching) to touch his girlfriend; she rested her hand on her arm while they laughed and touched her cheek when Ziva was apparently telling her something sad. He had known that Israelis were touchy-feely but surely Ziva noticed something odd. But if she did, she didn't say anything. Tony would have been furious with Hasida…if he hadn't been enjoying it a little bit. He tried to make it stop, but there were parts of him that he had long been accused of having no control over and it was mostly true. Now he definitely wished he could take Ziva home with him.

When they all stood up to go, Hasida took Ziva's hand and said, "Let me show you where you'll be sleeping."

"Hold on," Tony said. "Ziva, weren't there a few more things you needed to get before coming over here, things you forgot while we were at the storage place?" He tried to communicate for her to play along, she just stared at him like he was crazy.

"I have everything," she said. "And I'm not feeling well; I think I'll go to bed early."

"Not feeling well? How?"

"My throat hurts and I feel a little achy."

"Sounds like you're getting the flu; why don't we go get you some flu medicine? We'll be right back." He grabbed Ziva's hand away from Hasida and had pulled her out of the room before the end of the sentence.

"Be careful!" they heard David yell. "They say that there is bad weather coming!"

"Tony, are you ok?" Ziva asked, when they got out to the car. It was dark and cloudy overhead; a few drops of sleet were already starting to fall. "You've been acting strange all evening."

"It's just a little weird," he said. "I felt like I was the last one of the 300 up there."

"And what does that mean exactly?"

"You don't remember _300_? That Gerard Butler movie that we—never mind. I mean that I feel outnumbered and outcultured."

"Well, how do you think I felt when I first came here," Ziva said. "And you were always laughing at me because I talked about 'impregnating characters' and had no idea who James Bond was? Nice to know you understand at last. Where are we going?"

"Drug store."

"Yes, but which one? Was there something wrong with the four that we already passed?"

"I'll know when I see it."

He didn't see it for a few more miles. He had planned on going farther, but the sleet had turned into snow and driving was getting dangerous. They couldn't even turn into the store's parking lot because of the slope, so they parking in the lot of the car dealership next door. As they got inside, the wind started to blow with a fury; snow and ice started to hit the glass windows.

"Oh, dear God; you have _got _to be kidding me," Tony said.

"It's April!" Ziva said, staring at the storm and holding her head. Tony figured that this would be a good time for _Ziva_ to call the Embassy and tell her father it would be awhile. The store manager had locked the door as soon as they came in and wouldn't let them out.

"It's just too dangerous," he said. "I'd hate to know that I was responsible for the death of a nice young couple like you."

"It'll be fine; I don't think the universe is done torturing me yet," Tony said.

"I can't do it, sir; I'm sorry, I can't control the weather."

"I grew up in the North! I know how to drive in the snow!" The manager shook his head. Ziva was shivering and trying not to look as bad as she felt. She didn't say anything to Tony, but her eyes got the message across.

"Ma'am, why don't you take one of those blankets I have back there? Anything else you want free of charge; I'm very sorry." Ziva took some flu medicine and was still tolerating Tony enough to lie down on a bench with her head in his lap. Tony had been too nervous to eat much at dinner and helped himself some Ranch-flavored potato chips until Ziva punched him in the knee for making her head hurt with the noise the chewing was making. He moved on to the chocolate Easter eggs with crème inside. He offered one to his fiancé; she only growled in response and wrapped the blanket closer around her.

Finally it all stopped, and the streets were cleared. Tony very gently shook Ziva awake; she got up and looked out onto the parking lot covered in at least a few inches of pristine snow.

"It's beautiful," she said.

"And just think, if I hadn't brought you here, you would have missed it," Tony said. Ziva gave him a look.

"Nice try," she said. "But, no. Just take me back so I can get some sleep."

The manager finally unlocked the door and Tony walked out to find the car. He climbed over the concrete barrier into the lot of the dealership. Every car in the lot was covered with snow.

"You think you've got me again, universe," Tony said with a cocky smile. "But not this time." He held up the automatic door opener triumphantly and clicked it.

At least thirty of the maybe a hundred cars in the lot started to honk in unison.

Tony said some words.

"What did I do to deserve this?" he asked, when he grew tired of the words. "If this is about that Internet porn thing, it was only once and Ziva was working late and I deleted it long before she got home and I will never do it again, ok? Also, I did not actually _kick_ the little dog; it bit my shoe and I was trying to shake it off. But if I can find my car, I will go adopt a whole litter of them." He clicked again; if it were possible, even more cars started honking. "Why do you hate me? Why?" Tony asked and started brushing snow off the plates.

Fifteen minutes later, Tony's hand had lost all sensation even through his glove and he still hadn't found the car. Then he heard the sound of a car coming up into the parking lot; it stopped at the door. Tony went back over to see what was going on. It was a man from the Embassy there for Ziva, who only seemed too happy to go with him.

"Sorry, sir," the man said, when Tony tried to get in too. "I was told to collect only Ms. David." Tony looked at his fiancé.

"C'mon, Ziva."

"Tony, if you're going to be stupid enough to drive this far away in this kind of weather, I think you deserve what you get," Ziva said. She was grouchy from being woken up and she didn't like being sick. "I'm sure you'll find it," she added. "Come see me after work tomorrow."

"You won't be there?"

"I'm sick. I'm guessing I have a fever by now." Tony felt her forehead.

"Yeah," he said. "Ok. You go and get some rest; I'll see you tomorrow." She smiled weakly and laid down on the seat. The car drove off, leaving Tony alone, carless and freezing his ass off.

Abby was in the kitchen cleaning up the dinner dishes. Her husband came in and walked over to her; he was holding upside down by the ankles their two-year old son, dressed in dinosaur pajamas.

"Look what I found, Abby," Gibbs said, showing him to her. "Could be a baby diplodocus or maybe a brontosaurus. I thought maybe we could have it for lunch tomorrow." Abby looked doubtfully at the young dinosaur.

"I don't know, Jethro; you think he's tender enough?" she asked. "I know how we can tell. The tickle test!" she shouted, and started to tickle him. The little boy screamed and giggled with glee. "You see, you tickle the baby dinosaur," Abby said. She then grabbed him away, turned him upright and kissed him. "Then you give him lots and lots of kisses. I don't think we can eat this one, Jethro; I think we'll just have to keep him." She continued to kiss Jackson, who was still laughing. The phone rang; Gibbs took Jackson (who should have been in bed long ago) while Abby answered. It was Tony.

"Abby!" Tony whined. "I live in hell—and it's frozen over!"

"Oh, my God!" she said. "Tony, are you out in this?" Snow had blanketed all of DC.

"Yes!" Tony said. "I can't find my car; Ziva left me here and now she's at the Embassy with her father—who hates me, by the way—and this crazy lesbian bitch who's trying to steal her from me!"

"Wait,huh?" Abby said. "Why is a lesbian trying to steal Ziva? She doesn't swing that way."

"Crazy woman seems to think she will," Tony said. "She kept touching her all during dinner; making innuendoes…"

"Wow. That sucks. Don't worry; she's not going to take Ziva from you, not a few days before the wedding. Relax. Now what did you say about your car?"

"I parked in a dealership and then it snowed and now I can't find it!" Tony said. "The little clicker thing won't even work."

"Do you need me to come get you?"

"Would you?" The store had closed and Tony was huddled against the wall outside, trying to keep warm.

"Sure. Just tell me where you are and I'll be there in a minute." Tony told her and then wrapped his arms around himself. He couldn't even think of the usual things that kept him warm, because every time he tried, he could only think about what Hasida could be doing with Ziva at that moment; knowing that it wouldn't actually happen didn't keep his imagination from going crazy.

He was glad when Abby showed up.

"Ok," Abby said, having spent the entire drive there thinking of something that would cheer him up. "Have you ever seen _My Best Friend's Wedding_?"

"1997, Julia Roberts, Dermott Mulroney; this chick realizes she's in love with her best friend and wants him to marry her instead of Cameron Diaz. Why is this important?"

"Because, Dermott Mulroney's character doesn't go for it," Abby said. "He marries Cameron Diaz in the end. Now think of this as the same situation and remember that, even if crazy lesbian bitch has the hots for her, Ziva's going to end up with you."

Tony smiled. That worked, actually.

Title: The Week from Hell

Author: lunarcaterpillar

Rating: T

Spoilers: none

Pairings: Tiva, hints of Gabby

Disclaimer: NCIS belongs to CBS and DPB; no copyright infringement is intended

Chapter Eight

Thursday

Tony got to work in a very bad mood. He found that he hated waking up alone, especially when he couldn't be sure whether Ziva was or not. He had a new apartment already, but wasn't going to move in until he got married, so he had slept in the guest bedroom again. The snow had melted, so Abby and Gibbs had driven him to the drug store to pick up his car. He made them wait, in case the car didn't start. It did, however, and Tony drove it to work feeling a certain amount of apprehension. Wondering what was going to happen _today._

"Morning, Agent DiNozzo," Sara said, when he came in. She was the only one at her desk.

"Where the hell is everyone?"

"Ball went to the head and Kyle went downstairs to pay the guys in Technology. He had a bet going with them that you'd be too scared to get out of bed today." She looked like she might almost smile.

"Well, I'm glad to know that my week in hell is at least profiting some computer geeks," Tony said darkly. "Are people following me now with a video camera to see what happens next and put it on YouTube?"

"Lots of people go through hell when they get married; it's almost like an initiation," she said.

"How would you know? Are you married, Sara?" She looked back at her monitor.

"I was."

"What happened?"

"He…found someone else. The girl from the mailroom where he worked. And I never saw it coming, the rat bastard."

"Sorry."

"It's fine. I grew from it and I'm never going to be stupid enough to get married again." She looked up at Tony, realizing what she had just said. "Of course, I wish you every happiness; I'm not trying to say that your marriage will end up like mine. I mean, there's a 50% chance you _won't_ end up divorced, right?"

"If we do, we do." Tony didn't want to think about it, but the previous evening's events had forced him to. It made him think how miserable he would be if he had to wake up without Ziva every morning. The thought terrified him. But at this point he had no choice. Breaking it off would only have the same effect and make it even worse because he would know it was his own stupid fault. No, he really was in it for life now, and had to trust that she was, too.

"Morning, Boss; Simmons," Ball grunted as he went back to his desk. "How's life treating you, Boss?"

"Not as bad as it's going to be treating you guys if you don't stop making my life into your own personal entertainment," Tony said, mostly for Kyle's benefit as he came in.

"Don't worry, I've learned my lesson," he said. "Say, Sara, you wouldn't want to take me to lunch today, would you?"

"I brought my lunch," she said. "It's my new thing called 'financial responsibility.'"

"Harry?" Ball calmly stood up, walked over to Kyle's desk, picked up his stapler and compressed it until the hinge no longer opened. He then dropped it just as calmly back on the desk. "You know what, never mind. In fact, next week I'll buy you lunch."

Tony somehow managed to concentrate on working a new crime scene for the rest of the day. Going back to NCIS knowing that Ziva wasn't there bothered him. He badly wanted to see her. When the day was finally over, Tony drove to the Embassy disregarding most traffic laws, knowing that he was sorely tempting fate, considering its feeling toward him at the moment. Then he demanded to know where Ziva was. He went up and knocked on the door; Ziva answered it in long-sleeved pajamas adorned with pictures of a cow jumping over a smiling moon. He wondered where she had gotten those.

"Tony!" She seemed happy to see him despite how bad she obviously felt; she wrapped him in an embrace and pulled him inside. Immediately, Tony felt some of the tension falling off of him. He hadn't realized how much he had missed her.

"Glad to see that you're feeling better disposed toward me today," Tony said.

"I'm sorry for last night," she said. "I should not have said that to you. Did you find the car?"

"Abby came and got me just after you left; I found it this morning."

"Oh, Tony, I'm so sorry; you must have been freezing."

"It's ok." He put his arms around her again, feeling the way her body seemed to fit with his. "Are you feeling better?"

"I still had a fever the last time I checked," she said. "But I have spent most of the day sleeping and taking medicine, so I feel a bit better. I will be fine by tomorrow; I'm never sick for longer than 24 hours." She sat down on the bed and he sat beside her and felt the mattress and sheets.

"Very nice; I guess if you've got to be sick, you should be sick here."

"Stay here with me for awhile," Ziva said, lying down and pulling him toward her. "I missed you last night." Tony hadn't planned on mentioning it, but it was good to know that he wasn't alone. He took his shoes off and she curled up against him and pulled the soft comforter over them both. Tony was so comfortable that he almost fell asleep when Ziva started to cough and it woke him up.

"Hey, Ziva," he said. "I wasn't going to bring this up, but…you don't think this could be—"

"Fever, coughing and a sore throat are not symptoms of pregnancy, Tony."

From what Tony had thought was a pile of pillows, on the other side of the bed, Hasida sat up and rolled over to look at them with curiosity. "Pregnancy?"

Tony screamed and fell off the bed, landing on his back. Ziva had managed not to fall with him and peered over the side at him, looking concerned.

"Are you ok, Tony?"

"Fine," Tony said, jumping to his feet. "What are you doing here?" he asked Hasida.

"I'm sorry, Hasida," Ziva said. "I fell asleep earlier and completely forgot you were there. She's been here since last night, in case I needed anything."

"I told you she wouldn't be sleeping alone," Hasida said. "And someone had to take care of her; poor thing was almost delirious when she got here last night." She stroked Ziva's hair affectionately. Tony was not in the habit of hitting women, but Hasida was looking less and less like one in his eyes. "So, what's all this talk about pregnancy? You're not pregnant, are you Ziva?"

"No," Ziva said. "Well, not yet. But we want to have children; sometime soon." Hasida glanced at Tony.

"You mean, with _him_?" she asked.

"Well, you know," Tony said. "We thought about using a bank, but since I have the equipment already and other people's sperm are so expensive…"

"Sorry; I just meant that you don't seem like the kind of guy who would agree to getting married and having kids _at all_, much less so close together."

"If you want to know," Tony said, sitting back on the bed. "It was my idea, actually. And, no; I wasn't ever the type to want those things—until I met Ziva. She's the only woman in the world I want to marry and have kids with."

"Always nice to be reassured that you don't have another family in Australia," Ziva said. "And he's right, Hasida. He's changed a lot and I think he's going to be a wonderful husband and father." Behind Ziva's back, Tony was grinning smugly. Ziva added something in Hebrew and touched Hasida's hand; Tony scowled, but at least it seemed like he had won this round.

"I guess I'll leave you two alone for a minute," Hasida said. She got up, put on a robe over her t-shirt and pajama pants and left.

"I'll be right back," Tony said to Ziva, and he followed her. Once in the hall, he grabbed her shoulder and turned her around to face him.

"Listen," Tony snapped, once they were in the hall. "Who do you think you are, coming in here, trying to break us up? Do you see how committed we are? We're going to have children. She really wants them and I don't think you can give her that. So stop doing your little thing, trying to make me jealous, like I'm going to get so angry that I'll give up. Ziva is mine; you can't have her."

"How do you know I haven't had her already?" Hasida asked.

"She's sick and wearing nursery rhyme pajamas; I made an assumption."

"You really think she loves you?" Hasida said. "Or is she just used to you? On that note, do _you_ really love_ her_ or do you just miss her because you're used to her? If you knew for a fact that I could make her happier than you could, would you leave her?"

"The only person who knows that," Tony growled. "is Ziva herself. And so far, she's gone with me. I'm _not_ backing down unless she says or does something that actually makes me think that she doesn't want to be with me anymore. I notice she's not feeling _you_ up; still think she needs more persuasion? Now back off, or I don't care what her father says or does; she's coming home with me."

"Speaking of her father," Hasida said, ignoring his threat which, thinking about it, _was_ fairly empty; he was more afraid of David than Hasida. "He left this for you; he knew you would be coming by." She handed him a note that was sitting on a table out in the hall. "I guess you'll be wanting to go back to Ziva now; just don't stay too long. I'd hate for you to get sick at your own wedding. You should have gotten a flu shot like I did." She smiled at him and walked away.

The note requested that he come to the Embassy and meet David the next morning at 0430. Cursing time differences, Tony went back into Ziva's room.

"Your dad wants to talk to me," he said. "Should I be worried?"

"No," Ziva said, as she snuggled against him again. "Just make sure you bring the warrior tokens of your people; a cheeseburger and a Blockbuster card should work."

"Don't mock the condemned."

"No, really, Tony; I think you have impressed him in that you have even stuck around this long. You should see some of the men he has managed to make run for the hills in these kinds of situations. You can be proud of yourself."

"How many times have you been engaged?"

"In Israel, I wasn't allowed to go out with a man unless he approved them first," Ziva said. "Not to say that I didn't, but I always made a pretense of having one that I would bring by. Some of them fainted before dinner was even over with." She closed her eyes and sighed, with one hand caressing his chest. _She seems happy_, Tony thought. _Hasida is just trying to mess with my head_. Tony knew he would have to go to bed early to be in top condition to meet with Ziva's father. But still he didn't move. He stayed and enjoyed the warm comfortable feeling of her body on top of his until Ziva fell asleep. He never wanted to leave. No matter what he had to suffer the next morning…Ziva was worth it.

Title: The Week from Hell

Author: lunarcaterpillar

Rating: T

Spoilers: none

Pairings: Tiva, hints of Gabby

Disclaimer: NCIS belongs to CBS and DPB; no copyright infringement is intended

Chapter Nine

Thursday/Friday

A/N: I do not write slash in any shape or form. I do have a twisted sense of humor, though. Just thought you should know before reading.

Tony couldn't sleep.

_Great_, he thought. _I really hope this doesn't involve sharp objects._ His meeting with David was in less than four hours. Hasida—God, that woman was a bitch!—seemed to have gotten inside his head; he couldn't stop hearing what she said. _Was_ their love nothing more than inertia, an unwillingness to change? Was love in general any more than that? He figured that, by the time he had gotten used to Ziva at work, he had been in love with her. It had just taken him some time to realize it and even longer to get up the courage to tell her.

They had laughed a little at the way they had both spent so long head over heels for the other, but afraid to admit it. In Ziva he had met his match—mentally, emotionally, physically—and now he knew no one could ever be what she was to him. If only Hasida hadn't showed up! Ziva wouldn't…would she? She had hinted at it in the past; he had thought it was only to tease him. Would she do it; one last fling before they got married? Far from thinking the idea was hot, Tony suddenly felt a searing burst of jealousy and an ache to be close to his girlfriend. He remembered when they were still partners—and both secretly in love with each other—and they would sit much closer together than was necessary, shoulders and legs almost, but not quite touching. He missed having her by his side. He wanted her to stay there for the rest of his life. And if she didn't intend to? What if he—or she—said something stupid and ruined it completely? What if he wasn't enough for her? She might marry him, but still have someone else to secretly be in love with. What if Hasida decided to stay and wouldn't give up until Ziva was hers—or at least sleeping with her on the side? The last thought made Tony so angry he tossed his pillow across the room and got up to pace for awhile. What if David refused to let him marry her and she was on the next flight back to Israel? No, he couldn't let her go like that. He had to find some way to show David that he was the right man for his daughter. He just didn't know how.

Ziva woke up early that morning; she had slept most of the previous day and couldn't any more. Her immune system was as capable as she was and had quickly taken out the bugs. She rolled over and looked at the other side of the bed; it was empty. It was strange; she had gotten so used to seeing Tony there. Not having him there was like waking up without her weapons nearby; it just didn't feel right.

"Good morning," Hasida said as she came into the room. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better. Like my usual self. I'll be going back to work today." She stretched and yawned. "Tony's coming by soon, isn't he? Is it just me or has he been acting a little strange?"

"I have nothing to compare it to," Hasida said. "It's probably just cold feet." She sat down beside Ziva. "Why don't we take your mind off of him for awhile?"

"What were you thinking of?"

"Oh, you know." Hasida smiled. "What we used to do. You remember, right?" Ziva smiled back and seemed to be considering.

"No," she said. "What if Tony showed up early and he saw us? He would be very jealous; I wouldn't want him to be distracted this morning."

"I figured he was the kind of guy who would think it was a turn-on," Hasida said. "C'mon, Ziva; you deserve a little fun before your wedding. C'mon." She put her arms around Ziva's waist and leaned her head on her shoulder. "Please?" Then she smiled again. "I promise I won't be too rough this time."

Tony arrived at the Embassy trying to make himself feel strong and confident. He had had three cups of coffee and two energy drinks that would have to substitute for a good night's sleep. A man was waiting for him to take him up to see David. The Deputy Director was sitting at a table calmly sipping tea; he offered some to Tony, who refused.

"How are you this morning, Tony?" he asked.

"Good, sir," Tony said, trying to show as little emotion as possible. "And yourself?"

"Sleeping alone doesn't agree with you then?"

"I'll admit I've had better mornings."

"Do not worry; you can begin to feel better Sunday night." Tony forgot his resolution and looked surprised.

"Sunday?"

"Ziva may not want a Jewish wedding," David said. "But at least she is not having the ceremony on the Sabbath."

"I thought you weren't Orthodox."

"We are not. Have you never heard of the concept of 'appearances' before, Tony?"

"So you want us to cancel all the plans we already made so you can say that the Deputy Director's daughter waited until after the Sabbath to get married?" One emotion led to another.

"It is Sunday or no day," David said, simply. Tony could tell that this wasn't negotiable.

"You will understand once you convert." Behind him, Yitzhak entered the room. Tony looked even more surprised.

"You do intend to convert, yes?" David asked. "I would like for my grandchildren to be fully Jewish."

"Is this another one of those 'appearances' things?"

"Do you have a problem with converting?" Yitzhak asked him, giving him a stony stare.

"No, no; I don't have anything against Judaism and I don't have any real religious affiliation right now. I just—didn't think you'd make that big a deal out of it."

"This is our religion," David said. "Our people have died for it; I think it is a big deal. And I would not want Ziva to marry anyone who was not one of us."

"Ok," Tony said. "Sure; I'll convert." David looked pleased.

"Obviously you cannot be fully converted in two days," he said. "However, there is one aspect of it that can be done; it will show me that you are totally committed." Tony swallowed hard. He had a feeling that he knew what that one aspect of it was.

"So, uh," he said. "Did you guys bring a surgeon or something?"

"There is no need for a surgeon," Yitzhak said. "Our ancestors were not surgeons. We will do it as they did." He looked Tony in the eye and picked up a blade lying on the table. "Exactly as they did."

"Ok. Great. So, uh, where's my anesthetic?" David and Yitzhak both laughed.

"Anesthetic is for children and women in labor," David said. "We are men. We need none of that."

"In my time, I had none," Yitzhak added.

"You were a baby," Tony said, starting to get very anxious. "It's not like it traumatized you for life."

"Oh, relax, Tony; I am sure you can handle it. Unless," David said. "Unless you are not worthy of being one of us. No matter. I will find another husband for my daughter."

Tony thought about Ziva; he thought about how much he loved her. _She's worth it_, he told himself. _As bad as this is going to hurt—oh, dear God; this is going to hurt like hell—it would be worse to lose her. I can take this._ Tony looked back at the two Israeli men, gritted his teeth, then stood up and dropped his pants. "Go ahead. Do it."

Ziva closed her eyes and smiled, feeling a rush she hadn't felt for a long time. She let out a little cry of pleasure.

"Oh, wow," she said. "That was amazing." She looked at Hasida beside her. "Do it again." Then she laughed and screamed again.

"I told you that you would love it," Hasida said. Then Ziva pulled her head back in the car's window, feeling a little dizzy. Taking the turns at such high speeds had a roller coaster-like effect that made her feel pleasantly weightless; it was something they had done for fun ever since they had been taught to drive.

"I forgot how fast this car can go."

"Especially with our diplomatic plates," Hasida added, grinning in the driver's seat. "You can drive back."

"Tony would love this car." She ran her hands over the leather seats. "He will be so jealous if he sees it. Maybe after the wedding I'll take him for a ride."

Tony stood there for a few seconds, eyes clenched shut, every muscle in his body tensed, expecting any minute to feel cold steel on places that should never feel cold steel. But he didn't. Then he opened his eyes.

David and Yitzhak were practically dying of laughter. David had sat down in his chair and Yitzhak was weakly pounding on the table. The knife was gone. For a minute, Tony wasn't sure what they were laughing at. He glanced down; surely not.

"I cannot believe," Yitzhak said, barely able to talk, "that you would do that. Do you know how much pain you would be in?"

"You mean I don't have to find out?" Tony said, hardly daring to get his hopes up.

"Of course not," David said. "You think we are barbarians?"

"So," Tony said. "I can pull my pants up now?"

Both men nodded, laughing too hard to speak. Tony chuckled politely. David got up and gave him a hard but sincere pat on the shoulder.

"I applaud your bravery," he said. "It was moronic…but it was brave nonetheless. I know I need never fear that you would not do whatever it takes for my daughter. Welcome to the family, Tony." He hugged and kissed him; Tony thought he was doing good not to throw up.

"We will continue to make our plans for Sunday. You will be married here at the Embassy, of course. Who will be marrying you?"

"I called the Justice of the Peace on Tuesday," Tony said. "I had the appointment for Saturday afternoon…"

"Change it," David said. "How many people have you invited to the wedding?"

"Only seven or eight."

"Oh. Then it will be no problem explaining the change in time. What about any other plans; decorations, refreshments?"

"Ziva ordered a bouquet and a few flower arrangements," Tony said. "We weren't going to have anything else."

"You can at least give your guests some refreshments and a chance to congratulate you. I will make sure that the Embassy takes care of that. And you must tell Ziva; this is her wedding day. Anything she wants is hers."

"Does she know about these changes?" Tony asked.

"She should have," David said. "But you can remind her. She and Hasida went out for a little drive, but they should be back any minute now. You can go wait for her." Tony finally dared smile for the first time that morning; was it possible that he was finally in? Fate was smiling on him again? And all he had to do was drop his pants?

"Thank you, sir," he said. "I'll tell her." Then he went to get more coffee. The threat of circumcision really took a lot out of you.

Ziva and Hasida got back around 0530; Tony was dozing in the lobby. Hasida came up behind him and flicked the back of his neck.

"Huh? What?" he said. Then he saw the two women. "Ziva."

"Good morning, Tony," she said, as she kissed him. "How was your meeting with my father?"

"Went well," Tony said. "Considering the subject matter. I'll tell you about it later. Did you know that he decided to move the day to Sunday?"

"I thought he would. Is it going to be a problem?"

"Our flight leaves Sunday afternoon."

"I think it will be alright," Ziva said. "As long as we stay on schedule."

"It just makes me a little nervous because, you know, this week has not been good to us."

"Yes; I was beginning to wonder if one of your old girlfriends had a voodoo doll. But the past couple of days have been alright, yes?" Tony wasn't sure how to answer that question, so he just nodded.

"Tony, why don't you come up and rest for a little while longer; you look like you haven't gotten any sleep."

"Something like that," Tony replied. He slept upstairs until Ziva woke him to go to work.

It was a fairly normal day, with brief spats between his team members being the only problems that arose. Toward the end of work, Tony was finishing a report when he got a call from the Director's office to come up for a minute. Kyle and Ball looked sepulchral; Sara looked like she was trying not to grin.

"Relax, guys," he said. "I don't think this is anything bad."

"You want to bet?" Kyle said. "No, seriously, do you? It would be worth it; I've got really good odds on you _not_ getting fired." Tony just glared at him and walked up the steps.

When he got in there, he asked the secretary if she had pulled any personnel files that day.

"No," she said. "Just yours and your teams." Tony breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm not getting fired," he said. "I think today is going to be ok."

"It could be something just as bad." Tony scoffed.

"Do you know what's happened to me this week?" he asked. "Or were you not in on the pool? I've had my credit cards cancelled, my bank account cleaned out, my apartment destroyed; I've been in mall jail; I've been locked in a drug store during the snow storm with my very unhappy fiancé and had to watch her go back to the Embassy to cuddle with the Israeli lesbian bitch who wants her for herself. Then, today, I came this close to having my personal region violated without even a drink beforehand. So please tell me; besides me getting fired, what could possibly make this week any worse?"

"You and your team are going on surveillance assignment in New Jersey," Director Vance said, without emotion. "You leave in two weeks; start getting your things together."

Tony was speechless.

Title: The Week from Hell

Author: lunarcaterpillar

Rating: T

Spoilers: none

Pairings: Tiva, hints of Gabby

Disclaimer: NCIS belongs to CBS and DPB; no copyright infringement is intended

Chapter Ten

Friday

"You don't understand," Tony said. "I can't go to New Jersey. I'm getting married on Sunday."

"Agent DiNozzo, this is not a request," the Director said. "I examined all the teams that are here currently and yours seems to be the best for the job. Either you can go to New Jersey or you can choose to find some place to work that is more convenient for the changes in your personal life."

"How long?" Tony asked, after a long pause.

"We don't know. It could be months."

"Months?" Tony said. "I'm going to be away from here for months? What am I going to tell my wife?"

"Tell her that she can be glad that I am sending you to New Jersey and not Ankara or Budapest," Director Vance replied. "You know we do whatever it takes to get the job done and that includes sometimes inconveniencing some of our agents. At least in New Jersey she can visit you frequently. I'm sorry, Agent DiNozzo. You and your team will be briefed on the mission next week." He turned back to the papers he was signed. "That will be all, Agent DiNozzo."

Saturday

The dress and accessories were bought, the tux was rented, the flowers were ordered, the scheduling changes with the Justice of the Peace and the guests had been made, everything was arranged and Tony had still not told Ziva that he would be leaving in two weeks. Would she still marry him, knowing that they only had a few days with each other before he left on a mission? With things the way they were, he was afraid that he could lose her forever. So he pretended that everything was ok and if he seemed a little anxious, passed it off as wedding jitters. David and Yitzhak were actually being nice to him. David had even started calling him 'son.'

Tony had made every effort to keep Ziva away from Hasida. A few rather suggestive comments had been made about their drive Friday morning and Tony didn't want to think about it, so he tried to keep Ziva thinking about their wedding. It wasn't hard; she seemed to be enjoying herself making their small plans. She looked so happy that he just couldn't tell her. He knew she would be angry when she found out that he hadn't told her sooner…but he was, after all, leaving in two weeks. Also he didn't want Hasida finding out, worrying that she might extend her trip a little if she knew that Tony was going to be out of the picture.

There was a brief rehearsal Saturday night; since everyone who was coming was already free, they had showed up. To Tony's relief, both men on his team gravitated toward Hasida like a magnet and trapped her in the corner, while Gibbs kept David occupied and Sara and Yitzhak seemed to get along. He snuck off to find his fiancé.

Ziva was in her room, being a girl, looking at herself in her wedding dress, trying to decide what to do with her hair. Then she heard the door open and close.

"Tony!" She ducked into the bathroom.

"What?" Tony said. "I just wanted to see you."

"I'm in my wedding dress; you can't see me," she said. Tony chuckled. It was odd, seeing Ziva being very traditional all of a sudden, but he thought it was cute.

"C'mon," he said. "I'm going to see you in it in, like 12 hours anyway."

"At the wedding. What are you doing in here anyway?"

"You've been surrounded by other people all week. I wanted to see you alone." Ziva poked her head out and looked at him.

"Did you come in here because you wanted sex?" she asked him.

"No!" Tony said. "Your father is downstairs and I'm not an idiot. I just…wanted to be alone with you."

Ziva hadn't heard him; there was a certain amount of rustling going on in the bathroom.

"Because if you were," she said, her voice becoming more sultry. "I think we can figure out some way for you to see me." She stepped out of the bathroom with no dress on.

"You are not serious. If your father catches us—"

"I've been mean to you all week," Ziva said. "I thought I could make it up to you. But, if you don't want to, it's no problem; we'll be together tomorrow night anyway." She turned to go put her dress back on. Sunday night suddenly seemed like a long way off. Tony followed her and pulled her back.

"We'll make it quick. Not one word, Ziva," he added, when she gave him a joking smile. He took his jacket off and pulled her close to him. She kissed him and he gently lowered her onto the bed and started to remove the rest of his clothes.

"I've missed you, Tony," Ziva sighed, as he pulled the straps of her bra off her shoulders and kissed the skin underneath. Normally part of their foreplay was fighting for who would be on top, but since they were making this quick, Ziva let Tony have his way. In a few minutes they were both mostly naked and about to get to the actual sex when Tony heard a noise in the hallway; people talking. It was getting louder.

Tony didn't have time to think rationally; that it might be someone who had nothing to do with them. All that went through his head was a picture of a miniature guillotine. He grabbed Ziva, pulled her off the bed and went into the closet.

"Tony, what the hell—" Ziva began, then Tony pressed his hand over her mouth. The door to the room opened and he heard two voices, male and female, one of which was familiar. They both sounded very happy. Then Tony heard someone on the bed.

Ziva angrily pulled his hand off of her mouth and whispered, "Are they going to have sex on my bed? That is so rude." Tony was listening hard; there could be no doubt about it. Without thinking, he burst out of the closet.

"Hasida!"

Ziva had the presence of mind to put on a robe before following him out, then her jaw dropped.

"McGee!"

McGee and Hasida were on the bed; McGee's pants were halfway off revealing black boxers that looked like they could be real silk. When he saw them, he immediately got off of Hasida and the bed and pulled his pants up. Then he stared at Tony, who was wearing only boxers with little cars on them.

"I—we were just—she asked if—I didn't know you were in here," he stuttered. Tony ignored him; he was glaring at Hasida.

"Just how many of my friends were you planning on seducing?" he said. "And which way do you _really_ go? And, if you're so dedicated to Ziva and think you can accuse me of being an unfaithful bastard, what do you think _you're_ doing?" Hasida didn't say anything, just got off the bed and pulled her dress straps back up. Ziva looked confused.

"Tony, what are you talking about? What is going on between you two?"

"Wednesday night she corners me and tells me that she wants you for herself and that I don't deserve you. And she's been all touchy-feely and trying to keep you away from me the past couple of days because she wants to break us up. I'm sorry; I guess I should have said something to you." Of all the reactions that Ziva could have had to this, laughter was definitely not one that he expected.

"Hasida?" she said. "Trying to seduce _me_? That's about as likely as you trying to seduce McGee."

"She told me herself!"

"Hasida is the biggest flirt in the entire country; she probably just said that to try to get you excited."

"Well, there was that," Hasida said, trying not to laugh. "You're fun to play with, Tony. And," she added, turning to Ziva. "You remember, when we were kids. We promised we'd never let the other marry someone who didn't love her. I was just making sure. Honestly, Tony, I figured that you would just ask if you could watch."

McGee was still standing there, being ignored by everyone. "I don't think I need to be a part of this conversation," he said, when there was a silence. "I'll…see you guys out there." He practically ran for the door.

"See you later, Tim," Hasida said. Ziva glanced after him.

"Hasida, I knew you'd be pulling someone from the wedding," she said. "But McGee doesn't really seem like your type."

"He's cute," Hasida said with a smile. "Like a little puppy. Besides, have you seen his car?" Tony found his voice again.

"This was all a stupid joke?" he yelled. "I've been going out of my mind the last two days thinking you're trying to get my girlfriend into bed and you were just messing with me?"

"That's about it," Hasida said, without any shame. Tony walked around the room for a minute before he spoke again.

"Any other tests I should know about?" he asked. "Is there going to be a firewalking pit at the rehearsal tonight or something?"

"No," Hasida said. "How sadistic do you think we are?"

"Somehow I doubt that every guy in Israel gets this kind of treatment."

"Tony," Ziva said, trying to calm him down. "It's going to be ok. Yes, I admit people have been a little out of line—" She looked at Hasida who just grinned. "But it's almost over. You've gotten through everything so far and—" She lowered her voice. "Tomorrow they're going back to Israel and they won't bother us anymore."

"Until you get pregnant and I have to go through a whole new set of tests."

"Not from me," Hasida said. "I think you're ok. David, on the other hand…"

"You are not helping," Ziva said to her. "I'm so sorry about all this, Tony." Tony took a few deep breaths and felt a little better. It did help to know that he wouldn't have to be defending Ziva from Lesbian Bitch from Hell anymore. And, for the time being, David did seem to like him; it would be awhile before he had to contend with him as his children's grandfather. "You ok?"

"I feel better," he said. "We'd probably better get down there."

"Clothes would be appreciated," Hasida said. Tony suddenly remembered what he was wearing; he hadn't intended to wear the ones with cars today. "I can stall for a little while if you guys want to—"

"We'll be down in a minute," Ziva said. Hasida left. "Sure you're ok? I have to apologize for her; it was very wrong for her to—" Tony kissed her. He was so relieved to know that she was completely his—and about to be forever. He felt her kiss him back.

"I love you," he whispered, when the kiss ended. Ziva smiled at him and then let the robe fall from her shoulders.

"I think they can wait a few minutes."

Title: The Week from Hell

Author: lunarcaterpillar

Rating: T

Spoilers: none

Pairings: Tiva, hints of Gabby

Disclaimer: NCIS belongs to CBS and DPB; no copyright infringement is intended

A/N: Sorry this took so long for me to post; I was Internetless all weekend. Thank you for your reviews and favoritings; they have been very encouraging.

Chapter Eleven

Sunday

Tony started pacing in front of the doors since 0830; the wedding didn't start until 1000. When Gibbs and Abby arrived with Jackson, they got him to sit down and eat something. They didn't let him have any coffee; it would only make him more jumpy.

"I'm not nervous," Tony kept saying. "I'm not afraid of getting married. Who's afraid of getting married? Who would be afraid of promising a girl that you'll be together forever and then something goes wrong and we end up hating each other and then lawyers get involved—oh, God, Gibbs, I can't do this; I hate lawyers!"

"Yes, you can," Gibbs said to him. "It's very simple. You walk a little bit, you stand there, you hold her hand and you say some words. You've done that lots of times. Think of it like that."

"What if she doesn't show up? What if she's _right_ not to show up? What if this is all wrong and she's not the one for me and I'm not the one for her and—"

"She will show up and you will get married," Abby said. "Tony, you guys are made for each other. You're like peanut butter and jelly. She won't be able to stay away from you."

At last 1000 got there; Gibbs and Abby had gone into the room. Tony stood in front of the closed doors waiting for Ziva. They had decided that they were going to go in together; Ziva didn't want to be 'given away' and David had compromised with her as long as he got to stand at the front with the rest of them.

He was standing with his face pressed to the doorframe trying to keep from throwing up when he felt a hand gently touch his shoulder.

"Tony, are you ok?" Tony turned around and saw Ziva. And nearly fainted right there. She was so beautiful. Tony couldn't put words to it. The only thing that ran through his head was _She's mine. This beautiful woman is mine. _The dress looked perfect on her; half of her hair was pulled up and held in place by an ornate comb, the rest was in curls and fell gracefully on her shoulders. But her eyes, and her smile; he couldn't stop looking at them. He had never seen her look so happy. She seemed to almost shine.

When she saw him staring at her, she lowered her eyes to the side and looked almost embarrassed.

"I know; I don't really look like myself, but—"

"Yes, you do," Tony said. "I feel like I can see—everything that you are. And…you look so beautiful—" His voice caught in his throat. He would live the week from hell every week of his life if he got to spend it with her. Ziva smiled sweetly.

"I can't kiss you," she said. "Not yet, anyway. They spend a ridiculous amount of time getting all this makeup on me." She was carrying her veil and fumbled with it a little. "Can you help me get this on?" she asked.

Tony helped her drape it over her head and she picked up her bouquet of flowers in bright purple and red. "Shall we?" He offered her his arm and she took it and they went in together. Everyone turned to look at them, but Tony knew they were all staring at Ziva. McGee was waiting up at the front, next to David and Abby and Hasida were there as bridesmaids, with Abby holding Jackson and the pillow that the rings were on. Tony and Ziva took their places at the front and the ceremony started.

It wasn't long; the Justice of the Peace mused about love for a moment and David demanded that he be allowed to say something. Tony was shocked; he said how pleased he was that his daughter was marrying such a good man and that he knew they would be happy together. Then their vows began.

"Ziva, do you take Anthony DiNozzo to be your lawful wedded husband for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," Ziva whispered. Under her veil, Tony saw a tear run down her cheek. Abby nudged Jackson, who held out the pillow; Tony took the ring and took Ziva's hand to put it on her; she trembled when he touched her.

"And do you, Tony, take Ziva David to be your lawful wedded wife for as long as you both shall live?" Tony let go of Ziva's hand and looked into her eyes. She still didn't know about New Jersey. She didn't know what she had just said "I do" to. He couldn't just say the words and then trap her in it; he should give her the choice. Everyone was waiting for him to respond. Ziva looked at him questioningly.

"Uh, Ziva," he whispered.

"What?" she said.

"I need to talk you to for a minute." Ziva raised her eyebrows at him.

"Tony, do you see where we are?"

"I know," Tony said. "I'm sorry. But this is really important; something you need to hear before we finalize this. Just a minute?" Ziva shrugged and nodded, then grabbed his hand and walked toward the door. "We'll be right back," Tony said to the guests, and closed the door.

"This had better be good," Ziva said. "What is so important that it couldn't wait five minutes? Do you have an illegitimate child or a deadly disease or something?"

"No," Tony said. "I just got an assignment on Friday. Vance is sending me to New Jersey." Then there it was; the shaken look in her eyes that made him cry inside. He knew he had ruined everything.

"For how long?" she asked.

"I don't know," Tony said. "It could be months." Ziva's face fell even farther and she sat down on a chair in the hallway looking shocked. "I leave in two weeks. I'm so sorry. I should have told you Friday. Then we wouldn't have gone to all this trouble." Ziva was silent for a minute.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asked.

"I can't imagine that you want to marry me now. Maybe this whole week has been like a sign from God or something. Maybe we shouldn't be married at all." He stared at his feet, feeling like everything he had gone through had been for nothing. There was a tense silence. Then Ziva sighed, stood up and punched him in the arm.

"Are you insane, Tony?" she said. "Yes, I'm angry and this is the worst thing that's happened all week. But _I_, at least, just promised to be your wife and I am not going back on that. After all we've been through, Tony, we can't back out now. I am going to miss you. But I am going to miss you as your _wife_." She took his hand again. "Now we are going back in there and you are saying 'I do' and we are going to celebrate with our friends and family and just…try to pretend this isn't happening, ok?"

"For better or for worse, right?" Tony said. At least she still wanted to marry him. He had been having mental pictures of her storming out leaving him to explain to her father why they were only half-married, if there was such a thing. She was right; it would be weak to give up at the finish line. And he had their honeymoon to look forward to. It couldn't make up for months without her, but at least it was some time they could spend with just each other.

"Exactly," Ziva said, and they went back and hurried up the front. Tony avoided David's eyes.

"Sorry about that," Tony said. "And…I do." Ziva took the ring from Jackson's pillow and slid it onto his finger.

"I now pronounce you, uh, husband and wife," the Justice of the Peace said, looking a little weirded out by the proceedings. "And, of course you may kiss the bride." Tony glanced at David; he nodded and Tony lifted the veil off of Ziva's face. And kissed her with all the love he had in his heart.

Title: The Week from Hell

Author: lunarcaterpillar

Rating: T

Spoilers: none

Pairings: Tiva, hints of Gabby

Disclaimer: NCIS belongs to CBS and DPB; no copyright infringement is intended

Chapter Twelve

Sunday

"It wasn't your fault, Tony," Ziva said, as they pulled into the parking space in front of their new apartment.

"It's just…God, this is getting ridiculous!" Tony fumed. "A truck—filled with _our_ stuff, no less—turns over, spills everything we own onto the street, and then manages to prevent us from getting to the airport to go on our honeymoon. Someone up there must really hate me." They got out and looked at their new apartment. "By the way, I know this place is a craphole, but it was the only place that I could get on the kind of short notice that your father demanded." The apartment complex was old and rundown, made of grayish brick. The paint was peeling from the doors. "Give me a few days; I'll be able to find something better."

They opened the door to 204; Tony closed his eyes and flipped the switch. Nothing happened. "Figures," Tony said. "They forgot to turn the power on." He glanced at the faucet in the kitchen; did he dare or did he not want to know? Resigning himself, he walked over to it, closed his eyes again, and gave it a tiny nudge. Nothing. Tony was about to yank out the pipes and use them to destroy the entire place when he heard a faint drip-drip-drip. There were drops coming from the faucet. He turned it more; water came pouring, as if it was perfectly normal for a person to expect for their water to be turned on. Tony broke out in an enormous grin.

"Ziva!" he yelled. "Ziva, c'mere!" Ziva came in carrying the bags of things they still had from their nights at Gibbs and Abby's; she dropped them and came over to the sink.

"What is it?" she asked. "Do you need me to kill a spider for you?"

"Do I look like McGee?" Tony said, still wearing his triumphant smile. "Look." He turned on the faucet. Water poured out. Ziva stared at him like he was crazy for a minute, then smiled and started to laugh.

"Something finally went right, Tony," she said. "And look." In their living room was a couch that had been unable to fit in the truck and so had actually gotten to their apartment. Ziva pulled off the cushions and pulled out the bed. "And the sheets are still there," she said. "We have someplace to sleep." Tony held his cell phone in one hand and a twenty he had found in the car in the other like a winning lottery ticket.

"We can order pizza!" he said, and dialed.

"It's kind of funny, actually," Ziva said, later, licking pizza sauce off of her fingers. "That what kept us from going on our honeymoon was actually our own stuff? What did the guy say happened, anyway?"

"He said it was some dark-haired chick in a Porsche," Tony said through a mouthful of pizza. "Seemed like she didn't know how to drive; she got on the shoulder to pass and jumped into the lane right in front of him; he had to hit the brake and the truck rolled over. If you hadn't been sitting next to me at the time, I would have thought it was you." He chuckled, then frowned. "Does Hasida drive as badly as you do?"

"Depends on your definition, but yes, there is a certain general…style to the driving of a Mossad agent."

"And did McGee go home after the wedding?"

"He was still there when we left."

"McGee drives a Porsche, right?" Both looked at each other.

"No," they both said at the same time.

At that very moment, McGee was happier than he had been in a long time.

Hasida thought he was cute even without the silk boxers.

When they had eaten their fill of pizza and since it had been a long day and they had sat in traffic for three and a half hours (not to mention the fact that Tony didn't have a TV at the moment) they decided to go to bed. Tony rolled his jacket up for Ziva to use as a pillow. They were about to peacefully drift off…when the rain started.

"Ow!" Ziva sat up suddenly and punched Tony. "Don't do that!"

"Don't do what? I never touched—ow!" Tony put his hand on the back of his neck; it was wet. They looked up at the ceiling and a drop of rain from the leaking roof hit Tony right in the eye.

"I guess the universe isn't finished with us."

They curled up together, partially for warmth because with the rain, it was getting cold and partially because there was only one side of the bed that wasn't under the leaks in the roof. They tried to sleep; they had little success. But at least, as Ziva pointed out, the week was almost over.

"I guess it would have to be 'the week from hell'," Tony said. "That has a better sound to it; you can't say 'the week and two days from hell.' Sounds ridiculous."

"This time last week we weren't even thinking about marriage," Ziva mused. "And now here we are."

"I gotta say, not how I pictured it."

"Not how I did either, but things just happen that way, I guess."

"And we will go on a honeymoon someday; I promise you, as soon as we can," Tony said, giving her another kiss. "You warm enough?"

"I'm fine," Ziva said. She rolled over to keep the light out of her eyes, snuggled against Tony's chest and tried to sleep again.

Her phone rang.

"Who the hell is calling us at 2330 on our wedding night?" Tony asked as Ziva reached for her phone.

"My father."

"Oh, dear God."

"It's fine; he probably just wants to say goodbye before he leaves. Hello?" she answered in Hebrew.

"Ziva, daughter, I'm glad you are still awake," David said. "I heard about the mishap on the way to the airport."

"It's not a problem," Ziva said. "We'll be able to go on a honeymoon sometime."

"What about right now?"

"What?"

"I have some unexpected business to attend to here in the States, so I will not be on the plane back to Israel tonight. Also, I cannot seem to find Hasida; I believe she has found someone she wishes to spend more time with. So, there will be two open seats on our flight. Of course, Israel is not exactly a honeymoon paradise, but the flight stops in Madrid; you two may stop there and go anywhere in Spain; I have a few places I could recommend and I can take care of everything. Do you think your husband would be interested?" Tony was wondering why Ziva suddenly had an expression of delight on her face.

"How about Spain for our honeymoon, Tony?" Tony stared at her.

"Uh…sure."

"Then get dressed and get your things together. Thank you, Father."

"The tickets would go unused otherwise; it would be a waste of money. And I thought you might like it, so I went ahead and sent a driver from the Embassy; he is waiting outside your apartment now." Ziva could see him through the window. There were a few thuds and exclamations of pain; Tony was having some trouble getting dressed in the dark. "Call me when you get there, and congratulations to you both. Ziva, you have chosen a fine man; he could not possibly be all that you deserve, but he comes close."

"I know," Ziva said. "It was good to see you; I am glad you could be here."

"I hope to see you soon. But you must hurry; the flight leaves at 1:00."

"Goodbye, Father and thank you again." Ziva hung up, hastily put her clothes on and took the bag that Tony handed her.

"I'm so glad we're going somewhere where I can speak the language," Tony said, as they got into the car. "Do you know anything about Spain?"

"I have been there before," Ziva said. "I think you will like it."

"So, is this a wedding present, or—"

"I suppose so. He won't want us to go on about it, though. And perhaps this is fate paying us back for the horrible week we have had."

"Could be. Whatever it is, I am going to enjoy this. Hey, will we be anywhere near the place where people let the bulls chase them? I want to see that."

They sped away from their apartment toward the airport. Ten minutes later…the water pipes burst.

A/N: I have a sequel already in the works. It's a crossover (I'm sure you can guess with what) and it involves a lot more drama. I know some people don't like crossovers, but I plan to try to sneak it into the regular section if I don't get caught since it's more NCIS than anything else. Any takers?


End file.
